Boulevard of Broken Dreams
by Iron Angel 80
Summary: First in the Apocalypse Horizon series: Seals are breaking, the apocalypse is looming and Dean is now faced with a task he never thought possible... hunting his brother.  Rated T for strong language.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: This disclaimer goes for this entire story. I own nothing. I have the rights to nothing. I am making nothing from doing this. FanFiction is an obsession of mine – both reading and writing it. I love the show, I love the music, and I love the actors portraying these awesome characters. Kripke is the genius behind this work of art known as Supernatural, I'm just the hack having fun with his creations.

A/N: This story is canon until just before the end of "The Rapture," and then I'm going way out into left field with it. There are OC's in this fic, but this story is not OC-centric and it definitely isn't a romance. Thanks for reading.

Songs for the soundtrack read like this, (- - _Insert Song and Artist here_ - -), just because I believe that the great soundtrack of the show adds to it's awesomeness.

A/N2: Sorry for the re-post of this story. There was a problem with the link and it wasn't working. Since there was only one chapter up so far, I deleted the story and am going for a fresh posting in hopes that it fixes the problem. A huge appology goes out to the people who already read the first chapter and left reviews and alerts. I tried to reply to those reviewers but that seems to be down at the moment as well. Hopefully FFnet gets back to working order soon. Thanks.

**Chapter 1**

**Present day:**

The silver light from the full moon above lit the semi-shaded trail with a dull glow. She could only just make out Marcus two dozen yards in front of her. Hugging the tree line, his dark skin and dark clothes made him nearly invisible in the shadows. Likewise with the dog ghosting along beside him. Bear, the Bernese-Rottie mix, greatly resembled the animal they'd named him after – not only in appearance, but in personality as well. He was a great hunting dog.

She had her Smith&Wesson M&P tucked into the small of her back, a full mag of silver bullets at the ready for when the beast showed its ugly face. They'd only injured it in town before it ran off into the trees and they'd had to hide when folk started running towards their section of the park to see what the gunfire was about.

_Stupid civies. Don't they know to run the other way when they hear shots?_

They'd been following the trail for the better part of an hour now, and they were now far up in the mountains above the city of Denver. The werewolf might get far, but Bear would find him. She glanced to her left at the glacial lake glinting in the moonlight far below them. It was black and tipped with silver right now, but she knew that during daylight it was a beautiful opaque blue.

She felt like an idiot out in the open on the trail like she was, making enough noise to raise the undead. But she was bait – she was always bait – and that's what she got for being freaking small.

"You're the easy target, Jenna-girl. Use it against him." Marcus had smiled at her, tucking her gun into the back of her jeans and taking a moment to goose her while he was in the area. She had made to smack him in the stomach, but Marcus was fast and caught her small hand in his large one and pulled her close. "And for God's sake, don't shoot me." He pressed his dark lips against her pale ones, cutting off any sort of smart-assed rebuke, before letting her go and giving her a wink.

After all these years, she still got a little breathless when he kissed her like that. It must be because of the danger of their occupation that kept everything so fresh. You just never knew what was around the corner and you made the best of what you were given. She happened to think she'd been given a lot, all considering. Of course, both would rather have remained ignorant of what was out there, and both would definitely prefer that their families weren't torn apart, but there was no changing the past and if this was her lot in life, she was glad she had Marcus with her. She'd walk through fire for that man. And he, her.

She halted when Bear stopped in his tracks and gave a low growl. She reached behind her, ready to whip out the M&P and blow a pretty new hole in dude's chest, when she realized that something didn't feel right.

Bear wasn't growling at the trees, he was facing the drop-off, and he was looking up.

* * *

**Six weeks earlier:**

"I learned something during my time away, Dean," the angel said softly. "I serve heaven. I don't serve man and I certainly don't serve you."

The hunter felt a chill run down his spine at the cold words. He'd felt like the geeky angel was becoming his friend, if that was even possible for their kind, and to have him treat him like this? They'd just risked their necks to save Jimmy's family, Sam was coated in demon blood – and didn't _that_ thought just turn his stomach – and Cas was bailing on him? Now? When he could really use some divine intervention? The coldness that radiated out of the angel as he walked away ate at him.

_Well screw you, Buddy_, he thought bitterly. _I've got bigger problems at the moment_.

Namely the demon blood smeared all over Sam's face like a toddler with an ice cream cone.

"Come on Sam, we've gotta get outta here." He didn't stop to see if Sam was following him or not. He really couldn't bear to see the blood all over him. How could he have been so stupid? So naïve? He'd known Sam was up to something, but this? Fucking _this_? Drinking demon blood to boost his powers? The Gummi Bear song started running through his head and he couldn't get it out.

_Stupid bouncing bears and their Gummi-berry juice_.

He could hear Sam's slow shuffle behind him. Guilt and shame radiated out of the kid so bad he could _smell_ it.

_Well, you should be ashamed_, he thought angrily.

How could Sam have been so stupid? That bitch Ruby did this to him. Demon whore, leading him around by the balls and promising him Lilith, all the while getting her hooks deeper and deeper into him and turning him into _this_. There were times over the last few years when he'd been afraid for Sam and all the crap Yellow-Eyes threw in his lap. The psychic shit and that little bout of telekinesis, not to mention the world shattering image of Sam yanking demons with his mind. Yeah, that one earned top spot in the scared-shitless-for-Sammy category. Never in his worst nightmares did he ever think that demon blood was what was behind it all.

_I'm gonna kill that whore the next time I see her_, he fumed as he stalked out of the warehouse towards the door and the Impala. _That bitch if fucking dead._

He swung into the driver's seat of the Impala, and didn't even look at Sam as his weight made the car sink on her suspension a minute later. He had wiped the blood off his face, he could tell without looking at him to know that, but that didn't mean he couldn't smell it still on him. It didn't mean that he wouldn't see it in his mind every time he looked at his kid brother. Blood smeared and hand outstretched, and demon clouds curling into the floor... And the cold and triumphant look in his brother's eyes – the thing that Ruby turned him into.

_Bitch. Dead_. His thoughts ground out.

He turned the key, the Impala's engine growled to life, sounding a little angry at Sam herself and the betrayal he laid at their feet. Because betrayal was what it was. He sold his soul for his baby brother, he faced thirty years on Alistair's rack for Sammy, everything he'd ever done he'd done for Sammy, and this is what Sam did to himself… A fucking blood junkie.

It took a long time driving down the deserted back highways and grinding his teeth for Sam to blurt out, "Will you just say something?"

"What am I supposed to say, Sam!" he thundered. "What in the hell am I supposed to say!" He pounded his fist against the steering wheel before veering sharply for the shoulder. Throwing her in park, he wrenched open the door and paced angrily up and down the side of the empty black-top desperately wanting something to punch. He heard Sam's door squeal as he pushed it open, and he wasn't sure if he wanted Sam to get back in the car, or come closer so that he could make use of the clenched fist at the end of his arm.

"Dean…?" For someone so big, Sam's voice can be really small sometimes.

"What the fuck were you thinking, Sam?" he demanded.

"It's the only way to kill Lilith," he whispered.

"Says who? Ruby? That bitch has been leading you down the road of good intentions by your balls since you met her!"

"But I'm getting stronger. I can take on Lilith and we can end this."

"And what happens when the blood isn't enough anymore, Sam? I see what's happening to you. You're all strung out and edgy lately and it's only gotten worse the last few months. What happens when you can't get enough blood?"

"I can control it." His voice got even smaller and Dean just wanted to punch some sense into the kid for thinking he was any different from any other addict out there.

"You can control it?" he hissed at his baby brother. "You can fucking control it? It's demon blood, Sam! It's wrong and you know it and you're doing it anyway! How could you do this to yourself? After everything that we've been through, how could you do this?"

"It's not what you think."

"It's not is it? That's rich, Sam. 'Cuz it looks to me like your downing Demon O-Negative and using demon powers to take down fuglies like you were swatting flies."

"We have to stop Lilith. At all costs." Sam looked up then and defiantly met his eyes for the first time since the demon-blood-face-painting-competition earlier.

"Not when the cost is your soul, Sammy!" He grabbed Sam by the front of the shirt and shook him hard. "I didn't go to hell so that you could do this to yourself!"

"That's right, Dean!" Sam yelled back into his face. "You went to hell and you left me here alone to fight without you! And I did what I had to, to keep fighting. I'm sorry if it doesn't fall in with your idealistic outlook on the apocalypse, but I've been holding a shit hand since mom died and I didn't have a whole lotta options around here!"

"You have to stop, Sam," he pleaded with his brother, hearing the words spoken to him and feeling them like a slap in the face. He'd left him here alone and unprotected – of course the sharks would circle around him. They had _always_ circled around him. "You can't do this to yourself anymore – it will _destroy_ you, Sam."

"But Lilith…" he interrupted.

"We'll find another way to deal with her. But this? This ain't the way, Sammy, and you know it."

"I don't know what to do…" he trailed off, seeming to shrink in on himself and sag on his bones.

He looked so much like the eight year old he remembered that pity gave him a good kick in the gut and he sighed. "First, we've got to dry you out, man. We head to Bobby's and we get you clean. Can you do that?"

"I don't know," he whispered. Sam's face scrunched up in anguish as his carefully constructed lies of self-control started to fall in around him. His eyes searched his brother's, looking for reassurance like he'd done since they were kids. The prospect of getting off the red was apparently terrifying to him.

"You won't be going through it alone, Sam. Bobby and I will be right there with you."

"Dean, I don't know if I can do it." His fearful voice cut his already tattered soul to ribbons.

"You have to Sam. 'Cuz it's me or Ruby. I can't stand by and watch you do this to yourself."

"But Ruby…"

"Whatever you think you have with her is a lie, Sam. It's not real. Whatever she tells you is a lie. She only wants to use you for her own purposes, and you don't know what those are."

Sam stood there with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket and his head hanging, longish hair falling over his eyes and obscuring his face.

"You won't leave me alone?" Sam whispered, fear and doubt festering in his voice. How strong of a hold did this blood have on him? "'Cuz I think it'll get pretty ugly."

"I'll be there for as long as it takes. The apocalypse can wait for a few months as far as I care." He clapped a hand over the back of Sam's neck and forced him to look at him. "I won't lose you to this, Sam. Not after everything we've been through. I won't lose you to this."

Sam's head drooped and his shaggy hair swayed with his nod. He didn't speak, but the nod was all Dean needed. He was gonna get his brother back. All the other shit could wait.

"Come on. We've got about six hours until we reach Bobby's."

* * *

An hour out from Bobby's, Sam's cell started to ring. He looked at the display and hastily tried to tuck it back in his pocket.

"Is that Ruby?" Dean demanded.

"Yes," Sam admitted shamefully, stopping his attempt to hide the phone away.

"Give it to me," he ordered, holding out his hand for Sam's phone.

"Dean…"

"Just give me the goddamn phone Sam!"

Sam gave a defeated huff and reluctantly gave the phone to Dean.

He hit the answer button and brought the phone to his ear. "Now you listen to me you blood pimping whore," he threatened. "You come near me or my brother again and you're dead. Do you hear me? I never want to see your demon bitch face again, or else my face and your knife are the last things you'll ever see." He snapped the phone shut without waiting to hear a retort and tossed it on the seat of the car between him and Sam.

"You could have just ignored her," Sam said sullenly.

"She's persistent. She would have just kept trying to reach you and then she would have come looking for you. Or is that what you wanted?" He couldn't keep the accusation out of his voice if he wanted to.

"No," he whispered. "No, I don't want her to find me. It's just that… that… Ruby and I…" He couldn't seem to find the words he was looking for so Dean decided to cut him a break. There were more important things on the go right now other than pettiness.

"She saved your life, and you've been sleeping with her, and you feel like you're joined to her in a way other than at the junk or the veins?"

Sam sighed, "It's twisted, I know. But, yeah. That's pretty much how it feels. It's not love – I know that. It's not like it was with me and Jess. But it was something… something more than just the sex and blood – I just don't know what it was."

"You're making the right choice here, Sam. She's poison. Deep down, you know it too."

"Yeah. I know…"

* * *

After twelve hours at Bobby's, they had to lock Sam in the panic room. His deterioration came on fast. Within the span of an hour, he went from rocking back and forth to taking swings and trying to escape the house with the keys to Bobby's old Chevelle in his pocket. The sound of the metal bar sliding into place on the panic room was eerily like the sound of a cell door closing. There wasn't much difference if you really looked at it. Sam was in lockdown.

There was a cot in there, and a piss bucket against the curved wall. There was little else as they didn't want anything in there that Sam could hurt himself with. Thankfully, Bobby in all his prophetic wisdom, had cleared out the panic room of all the munitions before they arrived just in case it came to this. It took both of them to wrestle Sam into the room. His eyes were wide with fear and bloodshot from withdrawal, but they did it. He had his arms locked around Sam's chest, while Bobby had a strong hold on his knees, and they carted his kicking and swinging ass into the panic room like deranged spoils from a tribal hunt. All they needed was a spear held between them and Sam trussed up by his wrists and ankles like a boar ready for the spit.

So Dean sat with his back against the metal door on the dirty floor of Bobby's basement, reading the paper aloud so that Sam would know he wasn't alone. The banging and animalistic screams coming from within made the hairs on the back of his neck rise but he kept reading for as much good as it was doing. At least it gave him something to concentrate on other than Sam throwing himself around the room and screaming for Ruby.

_As if I didn't need another reason to kill the bitch_, he thought ascetically as he spoke louder to be heard over Sam's yelling.

Eventually he came to the end of the paper. It wasn't as if he was reading the obituaries or the Wall Street report to Sam, and he definitely wasn't about to read to him the bad shit that was happening that sounded suspiciously like demon activity. So when the paper ran dry, and there was nothing he could say to his brother but he still needed Sam to know he wasn't alone, he started to sing.

_(- - End of the Line, by The Travelling Wilbury's - -) as sung by Dean._

His voice was raspy from talking for so long, and his throat was dry from not thinking to bring some water down with him when he took up his post hours ago, but he sang anyway. Sam always hated him singing along to the radio – he thought it was annoying as hell. But halfway through the song, he heard Sam quiet down and he even started singing too. And if he thought _his_ voice was hoarse, Sam's was like heavy boot treads on broken glass.

"_Well it's allll right, even when push comes to shove_," they sang in unison.

_And there were plenty of times it came to pushing and shoving, didn't it Sammy?_

"_Well it's allll right, if you got someone to love_,"

_Totally not using the 'L' bomb – we are waaayyy cooler than that…_

"_Well it's allll right, everything will work out fine_,"

He imagined that Sam was sitting with his back braced against the door, and the thought gave him hope. The two of them, back to back like they were supposed to be.

"_Well it's allll right, we're going to the end of the line_."

_You and me both Sammy. I'm not losing you to this_, he silently promised his brother as he continued singing the song. He was fighting to keep the tears in check and keep his voice from cracking so that Sam didn't know how close he was to losing it and how far from _fine_ he really was.

"_Well, it's allll right, remember to live and let live,"_

_Except for Ruby, bitch is dead. And Lilith, can't forget her…_

"_Well it's allll right, the best you can do is forgive_."

His voice did hitch on that part, Sam's too for that matter. There was a lot of forgiving to be going around these parts in the hard times to come. It was something that he and Sam would have to work on – reestablish that foundation of trust that got torn out from under them when he went to hell and left Sam alone to be preyed on by the demons.

After a time of the two of them running through all the songs they knew, Bobby came downstairs with some food and water for the both of them.

"Here. Get something in ya," he said gruffly as he leaned forward to place a tray next to Dean. A ham sandwich, a bottle of water and a familiar silver flask. Dean could smell the whiskey on Bobby's breath, but let it slide. Bobby hadn't had a drop since he got sprung from the pit, but if anything would make the seasoned hunter turn to the bottle again, it would be one of his boys locked up in his panic room for a demon-detox.

"Thanks, Bobby." Dean wiped a hand over his eyes trying to force the dryness out. He'd been awake the last thirty hours straight, and it wasn't as if he was getting a solid eight hours every night anyway. This week alone he'd probably only had about twenty-odd hours of sleep and the fumes he was running on were getting dangerously low.

Bobby slid a sandwich and a bottle of water through the slot in the bottom of the heavy iron door for Sam. "Kid?" he called.

Sam's face materialized at the eye-gate. "I'm still in here, Bobby." Sam looked even rougher than Dean did, and little wonder with the demon juice burning its way through his system, raping and pillaging as it went.

"How you faring, Kid?"

"I can honestly say that I've been better." His sweat streaked face and fevered eyes were a testament to that.

"I'm sorry for locking you up in there. But it's for your own good, Boy."

"I know. Hey, Bobby?"

"Yeah?" Bobby leaned forward to see what Sam wanted from him.

Sam didn't ask anything though, he just tried to squeeze his hands through the metal bars, and the anguished scream he let out as he tried to claw his way through the door made the grizzled hunter leap back.

"Jesus Christ!" he swore, staring appalled at the door and Sam's frenzied attempt to get through the four-by-nine inch opening.

"He's got nothing to do with this," Dean muttered, leaning his back against the metal door and sliding down the face of it to sit on his ass in the dirt. He burrowed his face in his palms to blot out the image of Sam's reaching fingers, but Bobby couldn't tear his gaze away from the opening.

"Go on back upstairs, Bobby. I got this." He gently banged the back of his head against the metal a few time before letting his head roll on his neck. Sam's deranged screaming tore at him in ways that Alastair never dreamed imaginable.

"You don't have to do this alone, Kid."

"No. But I kinda owe it to him. Y'know?"

Bobby finally broke his transfixed stare with the eye-gate and looked down at him. "You've done more for that boy than anyone could have ever expected of you."

"And it still wasn't enough," he replied bitterly, every failure compounding in his head. He rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Go back upstairs, Bobby. I'll call you if I need you."

Bobby retreated up the stairs with the tortured symphony of Sam's delusional screaming filling his ears and shattering his heart.

* * *

Dean lay across the floor in front of the metal door. All had gone silent a few hours before, and when he checked the eye-gate, he could see Sam splayed across the too small cot, tossing fitfully.

_At least he's getting some sleep_, he thought wearily. So he did manage to get a few precious hours of sleep in before the screaming started up again. It wasn't as bad as before Sam passed out, or at least he deluded himself into thinking that, cuz Sam had to be making an improvement – he just _had_ to.

And day by agonizing day, the screaming got softer and didn't last as long, and the bouts of insanity were farther apart. The kid was shaking though. Bad. It killed him to look in the grate and see Sam rocking back and forth on the floor, trembling from head to toe and talking to figures that weren't there. Jessica, mom, dad, even some people that they didn't save. He 'spoke' to Madison for some time before he broke into tears. The crying spasms were tough too, but he forced himself to watch through the eye-gate, to witness what his absence had done to his baby brother. Because surely, if he hadn't left Sam behind in a world that wanted to rip him limb from limb, he never would have aligned himself with Ruby and her poison.

So he watched as his form of penance. He didn't believe in praying. God was some schmuck who bailed on everyone and left them here to wallow and rot in the crap he left behind. So he didn't pray, but he watched. And he silently begged Sam to forgive him for putting him through this.

* * *

On the sixth day they tentatively opened the door.

Sam was sitting upright on the cot, eyes sunken, skin waxen and drawn, but the trembling had stopped, and he hadn't screamed or cried in half a day.

"Sammy?" he whispered as he cautiously stepped into the room. Bobby was right behind him, and although Dean told him that it wasn't necessary, Bobby had a nightstick tucked up the back of his shirt.

"Sam?" he called again, leaning down slightly to look Sam in the eyes. A delayed second later, Sam's eyes shifted and bored into his.

"How you feeling there, Sammy?"

Sam took several measured breaths before responding. "I don't know…"

"Do you want to come upstairs? Take a shower? Get some fresh air?" he asked. The smell in the room wasn't as bad as the smells in hell, but it was sufficiently awful enough to make him take short breaths.

"I-I… I think I'd like a shower."

"That's good, Kid," Bobby said gently, scrutinizing every non-move Sam made. "Come on upstairs. Take a shower, get something hot to eat. I've got some coffee on if you want some of that too…"

"Your coffee's always burnt." Sam's eyes swung slowly from Dean's to Bobby's and the effect was un-nerving.

"I'll brew you a fresh pot – just the way you like it," Dean promised him, leaning in a little closer but breathing even shallower. "Not too strong and with lots of cream and sugar."

_Fuck he stinks_.

"I could really go for a latte right now."

"Maybe we'll go out for one later," he compromised. "Come on upstairs, Sam. Let's get outta here."

He grabbed him gently by the elbow and tugged him to his feet where he swayed slightly. Sam followed him up the stairs, with Bobby bringing up the rear. The over-cautious approach might have seemed a little over-done, but the zombie-like state Sam was in was freaking him the hell out.

Sam winced as the bright light filtering in through dirty kitchen windows assailed him. Shielding his eyes with his forearm, he made his way through the kitchen and up the stairs to the bathroom on the second floor. They had already taken all the razors out of the bathroom, and Sam could live with his week's worth of scruff if he didn't feel like using the electric razor on the grubby counter. Dean had laid out a towel and washcloth, soap, shampoo and some clean clothes from his duffle bag so that Sam would have everything he needed. He left the bathroom, closing the door gently behind him before settling on the floor in the hallway. Bobby turned to go stand on the porch underneath the bathroom window so that Sam couldn't make a run for it by climbing out the window.

The shower ran for nearly an hour before Sam came out – looking more human now than walking skeleton. His hair was slicked back like it normally was, his sideburns were long and shaggy, but they didn't put any scissors in there in case he tried to hurt himself with them. And he did use the electric razor to tame the stubble on his face. He wasn't the baby faced boy he always saw when he looked at him, but he was more like the Sam he used to know than the one that they'd had to cage up like an animal the last six days.

Dean stood up from the floor, still cautiously watching Sam, afraid that he would lash out any second. "How about that coffee, Sammy?"

"Sounds good," he spoke slowly, as if he had to concentrate on what he wanted to say, and that was sufficient to keep him on high alert. "Do you think Bobby's got any bacon and eggs? I'm kinda sick of ham sandwiches."

"Yeah," he whispered, smiling a little on the inside. "Yeah, I think he does. Let's go down to the kitchen."

The three of them ate in silence, but Sam became visually more relaxed the more time he spent with them, and they eventually started talking about mundane things. He was a far cry from the normal, know-it-all, I'm-a-grown-up-now, pain-in-the-ass little brother he's always been… but it was a step in the right direction – and that was what mattered.

* * *

A/N: Thanks to all of you who read to the end of this first chapter and weren't scared away by the OC's at the very start. I promise you that they take a back seat to this series in the first story, but they will become more involved in the later stories. Also, Sam doesn't stay in his zombie state for long (I just heard a bunch of you sigh in relief). In fact, he and Dean go hunting in the next chapter. I just had to take a chapter to swing this away from the Kripke-verse before I could mutilate it. And I know that I can't compete with what Kripke cranked out, but this idea sprung to mind part way through season four, and I just couldn't let it go. Thanks for reading, and I hope you stick with me on this one.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Kripke's toys, my sandbox. Thanks for letting me play.

A/N: First, I would like to apologize to anyone that put this on alert or reviewed last week when I first posted. There was a problem with the link system, and while FFnet allows you to delete a chapter and repost it, you can't do that when it's the first chapter and the whole thing got toasted. So if there are any of you out there who've stumbled on this fic again, I'm sorry about the confusion.

**Chapter 2**

Present Day:

Dean Winchester was flying down the Kentucky back roads at a pace that would make anyone other than a fighter pilot sick. The radio was off for a change, the only sound was the growl of the Impala's engine as she ate up the blacktop at her owners demand. He was trying to block out the events of the past six weeks, he _needed_ to block out the events of the last six weeks. But sometimes Winchester determination wasn't always enough and the gruesome travesties of the recent past took to the forefront of his mind like a sick movie.

* * *

Four Weeks Ago:

A week in the panic room, a week getting used to sunshine and air again, and Sam was itching to hit the road once more. Dean didn't blame him. If he had someone on his ass watching every miniscule move he made, he'd go bat-shit too. As well meaning as Bobby was, he was completely unwilling to give Sam any room to breathe. Dean would admit, that the first few days after they let Sam out, he was staying uncomfortably close to his little brother too. The way he hovered over him reminded him of Cas and his total lack of the concept of personal space. The brief memory of the dorky, trench-coated angel made him smile before the fact that Cas turned his back on them made the half-smile melt away like it had never been. He really could have used Cas's help during Sam's recovery. A little divine intervention on the whole demon-detox bit wouldn't have gone amiss. He would've kissed the fairy-winged bastard if he coulda saved Sam the trauma he suffered locked up in the panic room, waiting for the demon blood to burn its way outta his system.

_Fuck you very much, Buddy_.

But all that was neither here nor there. What counted was that Sam was on the mend, and eager to get back out there. They'd been out of the game for the last two weeks, and surely, there weren't too many seals left. And there weren't enough hunters out there to deal with the magnitude of problems cropping up all over the country, let alone the world, that both knew they couldn't afford any more convalescence time.

They had work to do.

Even though Dean knew that the end of the world was hanging in the balance, he couldn't help but feel his spirits lift with Sam in the passenger seat, studying a map, making marks and circling areas where suspected demon activity was going on. Being back on the job was what they both needed, but to be completely honest, he was worried about having Sammy around demons again. He'd made huge strides the last couple days, quickly ceasing to be the mindless zombie he was to the coherent hunter riding shotgun beside him. He wanted to take it slow, do a small case first, until Sam glared at him, telling him that they couldn't afford to take it slow, and that billions of people were counting on them getting their shit together, whether those billions knew it or not.

So they followed some demonic omens to Omaha, nice and close to Bobby's if they needed him, and they trapped the sonofabitch in a Key of Solomon after Dean's jaw was nearly dislocated when the fucker punched him. Asshole smiled at them when they demanded to know where Lilith was. Smiled at them, like they weren't holding a knife that would snuff him out permanently. He just paced around the perimeter of the Key, chanting to himself while looking for a chink in the armor.

It was when he started taunting Sam that Dean lost it.

"I bet you're thirsty, Sammy-boy," the black man in the circle said in a sickeningly seductive way.

"Shut the fuck up!" Dean bellowed at their captive. Sam was looking at the trapped man in a hungry, lustful way that made his skin crawl and brought to mind the image of a blood streaked face and a hand out-stretched…

"I bet you can't stop thinking about getting your lips on my neck." The demon tilted his head to the side, stroking his Adam's apple and grinning coquettishly at the giant. "You know I taste good, Boy."

Sam swallowed hard and grit his teeth. Jaw clenched tight, he said scathingly, "He doesn't know anything, Dean. Kill him."

He did so gladly. He stepped into the circle and swung hard for the bastard's chest. He ended up getting him just under the rib-cage when the demon tried to fight back. A gut shot. A painful and slow death. As the demon lay spluttering and gasping his last breaths, purple lightening flashing across his features, Dean saw Sam eyeing the blood pooling around the two of them with his fists clenched at his sides. And shit did he look like he wanted to beat the fuck outta him and lick it up off the floor.

Sam tore his eyes away from the blood pool and met his brother's worried, concerned gaze. He turned on his heel and stalked out of the building, fists still clenched and shoulders tight.

Dean pulled the knife out of the dude's gut with a sickening squelching sound. Wiping his hands and the blade on the demon's shirt, he stuffed Ruby's knife back into the inside pocket of his green canvas coat. Giving one forlorn look at the body of the poor bastard the demon had been riding, he followed his younger brother out of the building.

He found Sam leaning on the trunk of the Impala. He wasn't shaking or rocking back and forth, but he was white as death, and he was wringing his hands in a way that Dean believed Sam didn't even know he was doing it.

"You okay?" he asked gruffly, not daring to sit on the trunk with him incase Sam took a swing in a bid to run back to the buffet laid out on the concrete inside.

"Yeah… No… I don't know." Sam was shaking his head back and forth and he seemed to realize he was wringing his hands and forcibly pried them apart, resting them on the warm black metal of the Impala.

After a moment, Sam whispered, "I wanted it, man. I fucking wanted it bad."

"But you didn't," he encouraged him. "You didn't. You turned and left and you didn't touch it."

"I left you holding the bag." His voice was full of shame and bitter self-disgust.

"That guy?" Dean scoffed. "I coulda taken that scumbag with one hand tied behind my back."

"And what happens when we go up against more?" Sam glared reproachfully at him. "I lose it, or I run away and leave you stranded. I'm a fucking liability."

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face and through his hair before risking taking a seat next to his brother on the trunk. "Look, Sam. We both knew this wasn't gonna be easy, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't think you'd do it. But you didn't. You held it together long enough to get out and that's as much as we can ask for right now."

Sam looked off into the distance. "Maybe I should go back to Bobby's. I could get you killed out here if I can't keep my shit together."

Dean cocked an eyebrow at him. "Is that what you want?" He'd support him whatever his choice would be.

"No." Sam looked down to his feet and shook his head. "No, I don't want that. Running back to Bobby's would be like giving up, and I can't let them get me like that." He ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "It would mean that the demons won, and I can't live with that."

"So we keep trying. We hold off crashing the big parties until you've gotten a better grip on yourself, but we keep fighting."

"We keep fighting," Sam repeated, looking at the warehouse door and likely envisioning the keg party he'd rather be having than the heart-to-heart with his brother. "You know what the kicker is, Dean?" he said softly, still staring at the door. "If I'd taken the blood from that guy… the host would still be alive. I coulda pulled him and he'd still be alive – going back to his family, wherever they are."

Dean knew the guilt from killing the hosts would eat at Sam, hell, it ate at him too – but they were running low on choices here. And what the hell was he supposed to say to Sam about that anyway? Your soul is more important to me than the life of some stranger? That was as true as anything got, but the words wouldn't make things any better for Sam, so instead he said, "I'll go get the body ready for a salt and burn."

"I should help you," Sam said, but didn't make a move to get off the trunk.

"I got it, Sam. One hurdle at a time, man."

* * *

In the span of a week, they killed four demons. The fuckers were everywhere and Dean felt as if they were being followed by the things. Or being herded – he couldn't really tell – they were pushing further and further east with every hunt. But Sam lasted longer each time before he left the scene. He even helped carry the body out for the salt and burn on the last one, standing beside him with a stony face, watching the flames devour the red-headed woman who tried to kill them. She had bled, and Sam grit his teeth and forced himself to stay in the room. Dean had told him that he could leave, but Sam just shook his head and stayed, digging deep into his self-will for the Herculean strength to resist the pull the blood had on him.

And damn didn't that sound like a good excuse to go out and get a celebratory drink.

_(- - Roadhouse Blues, by The Doors - -)_

They found a bar with a dartboard and a pool table, and while Dean took the table to hustle a few bucks, Sam took the dartboard and the overweight, drunken, former jocks that were loitering around it. By the end of the night, they were up two hundred bucks. Not bad for a couple of guys trying to get back in the swing of things.

They were heading back to the car when they both heard Sam's cell start to vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out, frowning at the display before giving Dean a peculiar look.

"What is it?" he asked briskly, thinking the worst.

"It's Ruby."

_Yeah, that would be the worst._

"I told that bitch that if she contacted you again…" he growled, wishing the whore were here now so that he could ram her knife down her throat.

"That's probably why she sent a text," Sam smirked, that weird face tickling the back of his subconscience with a '_dude, something's up'_.

"What does it say?" He didn't really want to ask, but couldn't stop himself.

"It says, 'Lilith,' and then some co-ordinates. 40 13 18N, 74 45 22W." Sam was still wearing this funny look, like someone who didn't believe they just won the jackpot on some crackpot slot machine. Suddenly, Sam started jogging down the rest of the block to where the Impala sat waiting for them – winking at them from under a streetlight.

"Sam! You can't believe her!" He jogged just behind him, reaching for his elbow and jerking him around mid-stride. "Sam! Stop!"

"This could be our chance, Dean!" he snarled.

"We can't go up against Lilith just yet, Sammy. We're not ready."

"You mean _I'm_ not ready," Sam accused him.

"Neither of us are! Fuck, Sam! We can't run after her half-cocked! Besides – it's probably a trap Ruby's baiting for us!"

"Dean," Sam hissed with rapidly waning patience. "Ruby coulda killed me a thousand times in the past year. She's had every opportunity to off me you can imagine. Or she coulda just stopped saving my ass if she wanted me dead. Instead, she tried to help me. And I know that the blood thing was bad, but I don't think she did it to kill me. She thought it was the only way to make me strong enough to take out Lilith."

"You can't trust her, Sam. You just can't!"

The bitch wasn't even here, and still the demon whore was driving that fucking wedge in between them.

Sam pulled his key for the Impala out of his pocket and opened the passenger door. Rummaging around in the glove box, he stood up and walked to the back of the car, flipping through the road atlas they kept before spreading it out on the trunk. Running his finger along the edges, he kept flipping until he came to the one that matched the numbers Ruby had sent him. Stabbing a finger down on the map the next State over, "She's here. Trenton, New Jersey."

"Sam, no. We are not going up against her, even if she is there."

"So we just let her slip through our fingers? Dean – we can stop all of this. The seals, the Apocalypse… we can end it all."

"Or get killed off in the trap Ruby's laid for us, and then there's no one to stand in Lilith's way."

Sam was getting frustrated with the way the heated conversation was going. "Ruby wants Lilith dead as much as we do."

"What makes you so sure about that, huh?"

"Cuz Ruby has a grudge against Lilith. And as much as she'll say that she doesn't want hell on Earth and she still remembers being human and all the other crap she's fed us… she wants revenge. Pure and fucking simple revenge."

"Why?" he demanded. "What did Lilith do to Ruby?"

"Lilith is the one that got Ruby into witchcraft in the first place. Pulled her into it like that Tammy girl did to her friends last year."

"So Lilith tricked Ruby into selling her soul and Rubes wants her pound of flesh from the demon queen."

"It wasn't just that… Lilith wanted her for herself. Alastair might have been Hell's Grand Inquisitor, but he learned everything he knew from Lilith. It was Lilith that strapped Ruby to the rack, Lilith that broke her."

Flashes from his time in hell shot across his frontal lobe too fast to see anything clearly. Strapped to Alastair's table, hacked and carved and sliced in all ways beyond comprehension – never dying and never being free of the soul rending pain… And then the guilt of saying 'Yes' to the bastard, of giving into the weakness and the pain. He put souls on the rack, and he tortured them in ways that made Alastair applaud him. He shuddered, blinking back the images burned into his memory, and being thankful that Alastair was dead – even if it was by Sam's mind mojo.

"Dean, we may not get another chance. There can only be what? Two seals left? One? We need to stop her before she frees Lucifer, or its game over for all of us."

Everything Sam said made sense. Go in, ice the bitch and stop the Apocalypse. Simple right? But everything about this just smelled _wrong_. But the Apocalypse was ten shades of wrong worse. What if they didn't check it out? What if he tucked tail and ran like a coward, and then Lucy springs free of his box, and billions of people die? How would that haunt him? He looked into Sam's face. His jaw was tight, and his eyes hard. He wanted this. Bad. He wanted to stop this hell-hole carnival ride and get the fuck off.

But there was a question that had been nagging him since Alastair left him a bloodied pulp, hooked up to machines in a hospital with Cas next to him, telling him it was true that he broke the first seal. The burning question of self doubt and ineptitude that liked to kick him in the gut every time he locked eyes with a black-eyed sonofabitch.

Were they strong enough to stop this?

Was he?

He looked over the quiet street, dark but for streetlights. There were business's here. Lives. Homes full of families that didn't know the fate of the world rested on a razor's edge and that two brother's standing in their midst had the ability to shift that balance in their favor.

There was a play park down the street. Swings and jungle-jims and left-behind toys some faceless kid forgot to take home with him earlier. Only… they were never really faceless to him. They always bore a resemblance to the kid the six-foot-four missing link next to him had been. Big eyed and brown-haired and a smart little pain-in-the-ass that he just wanted to protect from the things in the dark that lurked in waiting for him.

And his conscience whispered to him, '_what about that kid? Huh?_'

Sam continued to stare at him, waiting expectantly for an answer. And there was only one answer he would accept. So Dean gave it to him.

"Alright. We go and look around. If we find the bitch, and it looks like we can get in, we go for it. But we go in smart."

Sam nodded and climbed into the car. They had about two hours of driving to make up a plan.

* * *

Castiel stood on his mountainside, overlooking the serpentine curve of the glacial river in the Athabasca Valley below. He was troubled. His superiors had forcefully reminded him of where his allegiance lay, but it sat badly in his mind.

It had become apparent to those superiors how close he was to his human charge, and that couldn't be allowed. And when he learned angels were going missing – he had tried to warn the Winchesters of his suspicions. Something foul was happening in heaven, he could feel it. And if a security breach like that could happen there, Earth was in grave danger. If Uriel had changed sides, and had enlisted the help of others, then there were still angels fighting for the release of Lucifer, and there was no way to know how far up the hierarchy the treachery went. The hurt of Uriel turning on him still stung him deeply, and that was an emotion that was new to him as well – no doubt learned from his time with the humans. Emotions and doubt were two more marks against him, marks his brothers had sought to eradicate with heavenly-sanctioned torture. It was enough to stop him from telling the Winchesters about the missing angels and his fears of a host of compromised angels.

But he had spent the last weeks deep in the vaults of heaven. Searching, digging, and hiding from his superiors who would not tolerate more insubordination from him.

The final seals were breaking, and he was researching.

Nyan, the Keeper of the Vaults, had been one of the angels to go missing, and that sounded like the right place to begin searching for his missing brethren. Because, what would Nyan know, or what did Nyan find, that would cause him to either go into hiding, or be taken and held against his will? So he dug, and he searched through the Records of the Ages. But what he found in the vaults? What he had just learned? It was the final seal… and the Winchesters were on a collision course with it. And how few of his brothers knew what the final seal was? And which ones of those, had been behind pulling the strings to bring them all to the brink of disaster in the form of Lucifer's wrath once released from prison? Was it Michael? Raphael? Gabriel?

He would be dead the second he told them… but he had to warn the Winchesters that Lilith's death was the final seal. He had to make them understand that killing their enemy would break loose an even bigger threat to humanity. Lilith would have to be contained in a place that she would never be found. If only he could locate her, he would imprison her himself. Perhaps the Winchesters would help him to find her – they had means he didn't and the irony that a couple humans had resources he couldn't fathom was not wholly lost on him.

But he had to warn them.

His mind made up, he turned to leave when a hand clamped down on his shoulder. He whirled around, ready to attack, when the face before him blurred around the edges and everything went dark.

One last thought passed through him before oblivion took him.

_Of course… Zachariah…_

* * *

He awoke in a prison with the missing angels. Nyan was there, as was Anna who he knew had been on the run. Lozen, Ilithyia, Valdoro, Jediah, and a dozen more. So they weren't dead. Yet.

"Welcome back," Anna whispered when he sat up.

"Where are we?" he asked, looking left and right and not recognizing the cell from when he'd been incarcerated the other week.

Anna shrugged; a forlorn look on her tired face. "We do not know. Was it Torrin who took you?"

_Torrin too?_ he anguished.

"No. It was Zachariah."

Anna nodded gravely at that bit of news. "Zachariah is the highest ranking angel involved so far then. Let us pray it goes no higher, because if the Arch Angels are in on this as well, there is no hope."

"What is going on, Anna? Do you know what is happening?"

"There is a restructuring going on in heaven… Earth too. They _want_ to start the Apocalypse and to free Lucifer, killing the humans and taking Earth back for their own." She gestured to Nyan to come over.

"Nyan," she said, "you have to tell Castiel what you learned."

And while the wizened Keeper of Records told his story, a prayer reached Castiel's ears. He knew who it was. He was so finely attuned to the broken timbre of that soul that Dean would be able to reach him from anywhere in the world. He'd heard Dean mutter many curses directed at him the last two weeks, but what was reaching him now made him close his eyes in defeat.

"What is it, Castiel?" Nyan whispered.

"It is too late. It has started."

* * *

A/N: For anyone who hasn't noticed, Supernatural surpassed Buffy last weekend in the most popular TV Show fanfiction. Go SPN!


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Kripke's toys, my sandbox. Thanks for letting me play.

**Chapter 3**

Four Weeks Ago:

_And while the wizened Keeper of Records told his story, a prayer reached Castiel's ears. He knew who it was. He was so finely attuned to the broken timbre of that soul that Dean would be able to reach him from anywhere in the world. He'd heard Dean mutter many curses directed at him the last two weeks, but what was reaching him now made him close his eyes in defeat._

"_What is it, Castiel?" Nyan whispered._

"_It is too late. It has started."_

* * *

_Cas, if you're up there… we could really use some help_, Dean thought, standing behind an outbuilding to a warehouse and looking towards the sky.

Sam was beside him, looking through the binoculars at the shadows passing over the windows from inside the warehouse. The smell of wet mud was thick in the air as the Delaware River behind them twinkled in the grey light of coming dawn.

_She's in there – Lilith… and she's got an entourage with her. Now would be the time to swoop in and lend a wing._ He didn't know if it was working; if Cas could hear him or not. It wasn't as if he'd ever held any sway over the angel anyways. The whole, _I serve heaven, not you_ bit was ringing in his ears right now loud and clear. But pride was a pretty paltry thing to be feeling when you were looking in the face of the demon queen and the fate of the world was resting on your shoulders. Having Cas there to burn his way through the demon minions could be the catalyst that turned things in their favor.

_Cas?_

But there was no tell-tale rustle of feathers in the night air. No flap of a trench coat settling into place when the angel poofed in from outta nowhere. They were on their own, and Dean had never felt more abandoned than he did at that instant.

"Come on," Sam nudged him in the ribs and started moving. "Let's go."

As they moved stealthily across the expanse of weed-choked blacktop, Dean couldn't help but think about the gas station they'd been at an hour before. He was filling up the Impala cuz his dad had always stressed the importance of a full tank of gas if you were working a case – in case they had to make a quick get-away and an empty tank could cost them their lives. While he'd been filling the car, Sam stepped inside to pay, and when he came out, he had the fucking address for Lilith's super-secret-villain's-lair.

_Fucking Ruby…_

She'd called him, and she told him where they could find the bitch, because all of a sudden, she just knew this shit now, even though she didn't know anything before. _Convenient_. So now it totally sounded like a trap they were just waltzing into, and here they were regardless.

'_Cuz we can't let this opportunity pass us by or it could be too late._

Their lives sucked hard-core.

But the place was without a doubt infested with demons. They could see humans being tossed around inside like beanbags in a hot-potato game. And at the center of all the fun was a little girl in a cotton flower-print dress clapping wildly every time a human went splat. She couldn't have been more than twelve or thirteen. She had a shock of electrocuted-curly red hair, a face full of freckles, and she was giggling maniacally as she tossed her human toys around for the amusement of her lackeys.

They sprinted towards the building, bags of road salt in their arms along with shotguns loaded with rock-salt, a couple flasks of holy water and the knife. Working their way around the warehouse in opposite directions, they salted all the windows and doors so that none of the demons could get out, and no more could get in if they were in the area. The fact that there were no demons on security detail outside didn't escape him, and he mentioned it to Sam when they met up on the far side of the warehouse.

"Dude, doesn't it strike you as funny that we didn't see anyone guarding the joint?" he whispered.

"Yeah, I noticed that."

"This has got '_Trap_' written all over it."

"What else are we supposed to do, Dean? That's _Lilith_ in there."

"Dude…"

"We can do this!" Sam hissed vehemently. "We have to," he whispered a little more gently, an earnestness creeping into his features. "Or the world will end bloody, and it will be all our fault."

Their lives sucked epically.

"Besides, we can't just leave those people in there to die. Come on," he gestured to the emergency ladder leading to the roof. Dean followed, because what the hell else could he do? Let the world burn?

Quietly as possible, they climbed up a dumpster and onto the roof access ladder. They stole up the ladder, wincing when the butt of his shotgun clanged against the metal, and onto the roof. There was no cistern up here for the sprinkler system which sucked for them because nuking the bastards with a building full of holy water would have been awesome for their side. But there was no luck when your name was Winchester and your very bloodlines were cursed, and this building was tapped into the municipal water mains, along with the feed for the sprinkler system.

_Crap_.

But there was the single skylight at the far end of the building. They'd seen it during their initial reconnaissance of the warehouse from the roof of a neighboring building. Creeping over to it, wincing at every footfall on the corrugated metal sheeting which he knew had to sound like a damn conga-line down below, they hovered over the pane of milky, sun-deteriorated plexi-glass. With what was left in his salt bag, Sam made a meager circle around the skylight while Dean took out the glass-cutter from his pocket and made the initial scores in the glass. Sam took a small roll of duct tape and wrapped it mitt-style around his hands, sticky side out. He placed his hands gently on the plexi-glass, pressing them down carefully near the edges of the first three sides of Dean's rectangle. At a nod from Sam, Dean made the fourth score in the skylight.

_Now or never…_

He took a deep breath and gave a sharp snap with the side of his palm in the center of the would-be opening.

_Holy fuck, it worked_.

The rectangle snapped free and didn't fall below because of the tape on Sam's hands holding it up. Sam heaved a sigh of relief before angling the plexi-glass out of the frame and settling it on the metal roof. Scanning the now visible inside, they could see they were above a store room of sorts, complete with floor to ceiling metal shelves towering over two stories above the concrete-floor-of-death below.

Shotgun strapped around his back, he lowered himself down the skylight, hung by his hands and reached out with a foot for the nearest shelf. He almost didn't make it, but managed to get a foot planted on the thing, then took a deep breath to reach out one hand to clasp the top shelf. Hanging there a moment like a deranged circus acrobat with one hand on the shelf, and one hand on the skylight framing, he let go of the I-beam he was holding onto and he monkey-bar-swung it onto the metal unit. Sam, being taller, made it look much easier than he did.

_Sasquatch_.

They climbed down the shelves loaded with giant plastic wrapped pallets, trying for stealth, but knowing in his gut the demons already knew they were there.

_Trap trap trap,_ echoed cruelly in his head.

They got to the bottom of the shelves without falling and painting their brains across the concrete. So far, so good.

_Trap trap trap_.

He really didn't need to be listening to his sub-conscious right about now cuz a scrape to their right made them whirl around, shotguns raised.

"Fugly, three o'clock."

The demon came right at them, grinning wildly and flinging a hand up at them. He went flying, but the demon stopped and stared quizzically at Sam, still rooted to the floor where he'd been. The demons couldn't fling him, Lilith couldn't white-light-obliterate him, and Sam lunged for the sonofabitch like a crazy bastard. The sound of fists striking flesh echoed dully in the enclosed space as Sam whipped his arms around and slugged the demon in the face, knocking him sideways with the force of the blow.

With the dude momentarily stunned, Dean seized his chance and lunged off the floor towards the demon, arching Ruby's knife down and plunging it into guy's chest. The demon gasped and fizzled, lighting danced across his dark eyes, and Dean clamped a hand over his mouth to keep him from alerting the others with his death throes.

He was too pre-occupied with the demon pinned under his knee to notice Sam's eyes narrow and darken. He did, however, feel a freight train knock into him as Sam bowled him over and buried his face in the fabric of the demon's shirt, making an utterly demoralizing sucking sound.

"Sam! No!" He reached for him but it was too late. Sam's face lifted with an almost orgasmic expression of desires fulfilled, blood staining his mouth and chin, and wiping his lips with his arm like he was in the middle of a hot session in the backseat of the Impala.

He closed his eyes to keep from watching as Sam's head lowered again. Didn't mean his ears stopped working though and the sickening slurping noises cut his already damaged psyche to shreds. He felt tears burn behind his clenched eyes and now he really wanted to kill the demons – if only to get Sam back to Bobby's panic room post-haste for Demon-Detox two-point-oh.

It seemed to go on forever, though it could have only been a moment.

"Dean, lets go." There was an authority to Sam's voice that made him look up from his defeated position on the floor. If it was possible, Sam looked bigger. There was a new set to his shoulders, like he was a champ prize fighter salivating for the chance to K.O. the schmuck that challenged him for his title.

"Sammy… how could you?"

"Later. Bigger demons to fry right now, Dean. Move your ass." And Sam was off, loping down the center isle of the large storage room towards the door that led to the rest of the warehouse.

And he had no choice but to follow, or else Sam would go in there alone, hopped up on demon blood and gunning for Lilith with no backup. Feeling like a giant hole had just opened up beneath him and swallowed him whole, he pushed himself to his feet and sprinted after his brother.

_(- - The Final Countdown, by Europe - -)_

Sam was waiting by the man-door leading to the rest of the warehouse. He'd cracked it open, and they could now make out the sounds of the humans begging for their lives and Lilith giggling at them.

"Now why would I let you go?" she asked in that sickly sweet way of hers. "We're just getting to the fun part."

Without even glancing at him, Sam kicked the door open like he was Bruce Willis in Die Hard, leveled the shotgun on Lilith and pulled the trigger. The little girl staggered, and when Dean made to shoot at one of the demon minions that was running at them, Lilith shot a hand at one of the hostages and the woman's neck snapped clear around.

"I was wondering when you'd get here," the child smiled. "I've been waiting for you."

"The wait's over, bitch." Sam raised a hand in front of him but was blindsided by a dude in a denim jacket.

"Sam!" he bellowed, swinging the shotgun up and firing at another demon rushing them.

Lilith danced back, eyes glowing a ghastly white. "Finish him off boys," she pointed at Sam. "Your heart's desire to the one who brings me Sam's head." She walked sedately towards a narrow metal stair, cotton dress swishing around her knobby knees as she ascended to the office area above.

A black haired man lunged at him, and Denim Jacket was on the floor grappling with Sam. Sam kicked the dude in the chin, and raised a hand at him when he stumbled back. Black smoke started rolling out of the guy's mouth, and Dean couldn't watch anymore anyway as he had his own battle to fight. He whipped Ruby's knife out from behind his back and slashed at Denim Jacket's throat. Lights flashed, lightning flared, and the demon fell to the ground gripping his throat and blood pouring out between his fingers.

"Sam!" He made to run to Sam's side, but was thrown to the side by unseen hands.

_Fuck I hate the mojo…_

Sam punched another demon and was trying to get an inch of space between them to pull the fucker, when the one that mojo'd him lunged for his brother. He didn't even think, he just hurled Ruby's knife at the diving demon and by some miracle, got him in the back.

Like a shark scenting blood in the water, Sam turned and fell on the injured demon. He ripped the knife free of the dude's back, and thrust it into the gut of the other one when he tried to take advantage of Sam feeding on the first. But Sam had held off long enough to take out the last attacker before driving the knife into the neck of the one in his arms and burying his face in the crook of the guy's neck.

Dean couldn't watch.

The blood and the hungry slurping sounds were too much for him.

He looked in the opposite direction at the two remaining hostages who were frozen to the ground as they watched Sam with un-mistakable horror.

"Run!" he shouted at the man and woman. "Get outta here! Now!"

They didn't need to be told twice. The man gripped the woman's arm and yanked her to her feet, talking something about demons and vampires and that they were never mixing E with coke and booze again.

The heavy thump of a dead body hitting the concrete floor brought his attention back to Sam. His baby brother was standing now, blood coating his entire front and painting his face. And he couldn't help it when he stepped back in alarm at the cold and determined look in his brother's eyes.

"Come on." Sam had the knife in his hand and passed it to him on his way to the stairs without meeting his eyes. Apparently, Sam didn't need the knife. And apparently, Sam was convinced he could do this on his own because he sprinted for the metal stairs with out seeing if his brother was following him.

Little choice did he have in the matter.

At the top of the stairs was a short catwalk leading to a metal door. Sam was already at it, ear pressed to the door and a finger to his lips.

_Yeah, Sammy, cuz Lily-girl missed the elephant parade coming up the steps_.

Sam held up a finger, then two, then three. He shouldered the door open and bust his way in, scanning the room for the demon child. She was hard to miss in the center of an open work space. Metal desks and tables littered the floor plan and there was Lilith in the middle of it all, looking like someone left their daughter behind on take-your-kid-to-work-day. But not many kids could stand there with a ball of blue flame suspended between their hands.

"Incoming!" she shrieked happily, whipping her hand out like a major league pitcher and sailing the blue ball right at them. They both dove; the ball of flame struck a drafting table and exploded the table and the ball into a million little fragments. Some of the flame fragments landed on the brothers, and they quickly caught on the material of their clothes so that tiny fires sprung up on them. Hurriedly patting himself down to put out the flames, he burnt his hands on the little fuckers that just did not want to quit burning.

_Note to self: do not get hit full on by the blue ball of death..._

Sam was in worse shape. A larger fragment of the spell had splattered on him, and the whole front of his t-shirt was scorched and large parts had burned clear away. There were giant red marks on his palms from where he'd burnt himself patting out the flames but he was paying them little attention. Crouched behind two metal desks, Sam motioned for him to go right while he circled left.

"Stop hiding and come out and play, boys." The demon child called. "I've been waiting for this for a _looong_ time. Millennia, even."

Dean worked his way around the room, using the furniture as cover in case more blue flame came sailing at him.

"I'm particularly glad to see you, Dean. It wouldn't be an apocalypse without you, you know."

He could hear her soft footfalls on the vinyl tiles – she was pacing – looking for a clear shot.

"You do know your important role, right? The righteous man? The first seal to be broken?" She was taunting him now, trying to lure him into an attack by goading him with his guilt of his part in this whole mess. He wished he'd never heard Alistair hiss those words at him.

"Do you know I've already broken the sixty-fifth seal?" She was still pacing, still looking for a kill shot. He darted from behind a desk to a row of filing cabinets and a ball of flame slammed into the front of the cabinets, raining little drops of fire onto the vinyl tiles, scorching them like cigarette burns. "Only one seal left, boys." He didn't have to see her to know the size of the smile she was wearing.

"Did the angels tell you that you are also the last seal?" she called, malice and masochistic pleasure oozing from her high-pitched voice.

What she said stopped him dead in his tracks.

_I'm the last seal? How? Is she even telling the truth?_

"Of course they didn't," she cooed. "They wanted this to happen. Do you see them here trying to stop me? No." Another ball of flame slammed into the drywall on the opposite wall. She must have been making a try for Sam. "Why do you think they went to the trouble to free you from Hell?"

That thought had haunted him daily since he'd come back. Cas had told him it was because only he could stop this crazy ride, but was that true? Who was lying to him? The demon bitch, or the dick angels?

"They needed you topside because your death is the final seal to breaking open Lucifer's cage. You're a key, Dean Winchester, and nothing more. The first and the last and that's why they sprung you. How does it feel to be used by the ones you thought were on your side?"

Had Cas lied to him? Had the angel he thought he'd been friends with used him? Manipulated him?

"They've been pulling your strings since before you were born, Dean. You and Sam both. You are minutes away from death, and Sam is minutes away from meeting the Morning Star."

His mind was reeling. It made all kinds of sick sense. It explained why he was sprung from the pit. It explained why the angels had abandoned him here at the end when he could have really used their help to stop all this. It explained why the demons had targeted Sam so badly, knowing that both Winchesters would be hell bent on revenge, and come looking for the bitch instead of her having to find them.

_Cas, you sonofabitch._

He was the final seal.

_We are so stupid_.

"Come on out, Dean," she giggled. "Come on out and meet your destiny."

"Aaaaa!" Sam screamed as he jumped out of hiding and hurled himself at the little girl. Dean darted out of the protective space behind the filing cabinets and threw himself at the pair of them.

"No, Dean! Run!" Sam bellowed, grappling with the little girl who fought like a wolverine because of the demon strength inside her. Sam had his arms around her stomach, lifting her bodily off the ground while her feet kicked out at him and she reached behind her to scratch his face.

Dean drew the knife out and charged at them, planning on sticking her in the heart and ending this nightmare once and for all, little girl or no. Lilith kicked out at him, one foot getting him in the balls and the other lashing into his wrist holding the knife. The knife went flying, and he sank to his knees grabbing himself, thinking,_ who the fuck is she? Jackie Chan?_ – over the excruciating pain in his junk.

Sam screamed, making him try to jump back to his feet to help him. Lilith had managed to cram a finger in his eye and Sam threw her, the child's body bounced off the top of a desk and rolled to the ground on the other side in a mess of flowered dress and office supplies. A flat screen monitor on the desk dangled over the edge by its cord.

Lilith popped up like a gopher out of its hole, and Sam shot a hand up at her, trying to kill her off with his mojo. Lilith's frizzy hair flew out behind her in a breeze that shouldn't exist inside a building, but that was all. No curling smoke, no grabbing her throat – just a whole lot of nothing and a grinning demon bitch.

"Poor little Sammy," she baby-talked him, sticking her bottom lip out. "You just don't have what it takes to finish me off."

One eye shut and already swollen, Sam charged after her. Dean scanned the floor, looking for the knife because Sam's Ace in the hole had just turned into a big steaming pile of nothing and they needed Ruby's pig sticker. He looked up in time to see the demon vault the desk and throw herself at Sam, screaming like a banshee. She arched her hand down as they collided, and Sam's face twisted into one of pain. She was standing with her feet on his hips and clutching him by the hair, bringing her arm down again and again, and Dean saw that she was stabbing Sam in the chest with a pen from the desk she crash landed on.

Seeing the bone handle sticking out from under a swivel chair, the fumbled for it and ran for the pair. Lilith saw him coming and jumped off Sam and onto the top of a desk, firing a hand up at him and he went sailing. He smashed into an exposed steel column, back erupting into fiery pain before he sank to the floor in a mangled heap.

Lilith was now running from desktop to desktop, getting further away from a pursuing Sam as she held her hands a few inches apart and a black ball of magic grew between her outstretched fingers. She seemed to pirouette on the spot and hurled the black mass at Dean.

"NOOO!" Sam bellowed, leaping in front of the spell to stop if from hitting him. The blast seemed to slow time. Sam was suspended mid-air, his back arched and his face frozen in agony before he spun in the air and landed on the ground hard, skidding to a stop a few feet later.

"SAM!" He scrabbled to his feet, running to Sam who was shakily trying to push himself to his hands and knees.

_Not dead, he's not dead,_ he reassured himself.

He dropped beside him, hooking an arm under his armpit and helped to pull him to his feet. They turned to face the demon, who was looking at them with a mix of confusion and horror.

Apparently, you weren't supposed to survive the mass of black destruction.

"No…" she whispered, backing up and tumbling off the desk she was standing on with a loud crash. He turned and looked up into Sam's face and he blanched a bit at the cold fury in his eyes.

"Please no," she pleaded as she tried to crawl under a desk and hide from the pair.

Sam stretched out his fingers at the little girl and suddenly she was flying across the room and hit a steel column with a sickening crack. Dean glanced at his brother, eyes cold and hard as death as Lilith fell to a heap on the floor. Sam was leaning heavily on him, clearly shaken by the blast that struck him. Dean didn't know Sam knew how to use his powers that way, but he had once used his mojo to bust out of a closet he was barricaded in when he thought Dean was in trouble, so maybe this was a freak adrenaline thing. Didn't mean he wasn't freaked as hell about the whole Sammy-mind-throwing thing.

Dean felt the load lighten as his brother pulled himself to his full height, and shaking his over-long hair out of his eyes, he brought his hand lashing out and Lilith was thrown into the opposite wall where she seemed to stick to it like a giant spider. She started grabbing at her throat as her body began to rise up the wall, seemingly pinned there by invisible hands. The room was filled with the sounds of her gasping and struggling to free herself from Sam's psychic chokehold. Her face was growing redder and her feet were thrashing wildly and Dean stood there watching her pain with grim dissatisfaction. Sam's forehead was glistening with sweat, his jaw set in a firm line as he concentrated on the destruction of evil in front of him.

He tried to stop thinking of the little girl that was trapped inside that body with the demon, but that wasn't working too well.

Blood started to seep from her eyes just before her body erupted into flames. The flames licking and curling over her, pinned to the wall like a giant butterfly, quickly became a small inferno. Her screams pierced straight to Dean's soul and he turned away from the sight.

_That poor little girl…_

The stench of burning flesh assailed him, making him gag on the sickly-sweet scent of it. A flash of bright fire sent both brothers ducking to the floor, shielding their faces from the blast. The girl's body fell with a heavy thump to the floor, charred and broken beyond recognition. Her final agonizing seconds frozen on her face.

They had done it.

Lilith was dead.

They stopped the Apocalypse.

_Ho. Ly. Fuck_.

"Sammy," he breathed, "you did it."

A smile crept across Sam's face before his eyes rolled up into his head and he collapsed on the floor, blood dripping from his nose.

"Sam!"

* * *

A/N: Cliffie. Sorry.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Kripke's toys, my sandbox. Thanks for letting me play.

**Chapter 4**

**Four Weeks Ago**:

"_Sammy," he breathed, "you did it."_

_A smile crept across Sam's face before his eyes rolled up into his head and he collapsed on the floor, blood dripping from his nose._

"_Sam!"_

* * *

"Sam!" He dropped to the floor next to his brother, peeling an eyelid back and cracking him on the cheek a couple times.

Nada.

"Fuck, Sam, answer me!" He pressed his fingers into his throat and put his ear next to Sam's mouth, feeling the soft puffs of air on his ear.

_He's breathing… he's just knocked out_. Relief flooded through him. _Thank fuck_.

He stripped off his canvas jacket, wadded it up and tucked it under Sam's feet. He grabbed a wad of paper towel from the office washroom and soaked it in cold water. Placing the wad over Sam's forehead and not knowing what else to do, he went over to take a look at the charred body of the little girl.

He'd seen his fair share of burned bodies, but he had never seen that of a child burnt to a crisp.

Until now.

Her flowered cotton dress was blackened and fragile looking, like the barest touch would disintegrate it. Her frizzy red hair was now shortened and melted, a mess of black knots with red glints peeking through. And her flesh. Angry, red and shiny splotches covered her whole body making him shudder and remembering the souls in Hell with blistered flesh from the lakes of fire. He passed a hand over her face to close her still staring, semi-burned eyes, not being able to bear the sight of her accusatory stare.

A rustle and moan behind him made him leave the little girl's side and rush back to Sam.

"Sam?" he begged. "Sammy, talk to me."

"Dean?" he softly grunted, cracking one eye open and quickly shutting it.

"I'm here, Sam." He pressed two fingers into his throat to feel his pulse again. It was strong and regular and he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Lilith?"

"You got her. Goddamn, Sammy, you got her."

"Good. Didn't wan the 'poclypse," he slurred.

"Can you sit up?"

"Gimme a minute," he groaned, swiping a hand over his forehead and knocking the wet wad of paper towels to the cheap tile floor. "'kay."

Dean put an arm around his back, easing Sam into a sitting position. "Water?" he asked, sliding his ass along the floor a few feet so that he could lean his back against a desk.

"Just a sec." Dean got up and ran into the small kitchenette area, grabbing someone's '_I'd rather be golfing_' coffee mug and filling it from the tap. Bringing it back and setting it to Sam's lips, he drank deeply, closing his eyes before leaning his head against the metal side of the desk.

"We got her? We really got her?" Sam gasped out.

"Yeah, man. She's toast. Literally." He put the back of his hand to Sam's forehead to check his temperature. Sam winced and swatted his hand away.

He didn't want to ask, not when they'd just done the impossible, but he had to. "Sam…" he started, unsure on how to word it without getting Sam riled up and defensive. "How did you do that? How did you throw her like that and… and do what you did?"

Sam closed his eyes and rolled his head on his neck against the metal desk. "I don't know, man. I really don't. It was just there and I went with it. I'd probably never be able to do it again."

"The demon blood earlier…"

"We'll go back to Bobby's for another dry-out, okay?" Sam said, looking at him with pleading eyes, like he was begging him to forgive him for drinking the blood in the first place.

"You're cool with that? After how bad it was last time?"

"Yeah… I mean… I don't want it in my life. I mean… I'll admit it – I drank it on purpose earlier. I thought I'd need it to take her out and keep us alive. But now that she's dead? I never wanna touch that stuff again." Sam picked up the wet wad of paper towels off the floor and wiped his mouth with it, smearing what was left of the dried demon blood on his chin. He rubbed at it some more until the paper towels were pink and a nod from him told Sam that he got it all.

Dean couldn't believe what he was hearing. Sam wanted to get clean and stay clean. It was an honest miracle.

_Lilith's dead, the Apocalypse is over, Lucifer will rot in his cage forever and I'm getting my brother back._

He felt like he was king of the world. His entire life he'd been fighting and clawing to keep what was his, and now? Now he felt like he had it all.

"I'm gonna take those bodies out back and burn them in the dumpster. Then we'll hit the road for Bobby's."

"I'll help you." Sam made to stand up, winced, and crashed back against the desk.

"You just sit here and rest. You passed out earlier – take it easy for a bit." He looked over Sam's visual injuries, from the swollen eye to the burned hands and scorch marks on his shirt. He noticed small dots of blood on his shirt front and remembered Lilith stabbing at him. "How's your chest anyway? You're bleeding a little."

Sam snorted a laugh and closed his eyes. "Can you believe that little bitch stabbed me with a pen? Whatever you do, don't tell Bobby that one. The old man will spend the next ten years laughing at me over that."

Now that the danger was passed, it was kinda funny.

_Death by office supplies…_

"My lips are sealed." He stood up. "You stay here. I'll burn the bodies."

He started to walk towards the red-haired girl when Sam's voice stopped him. "Hey, Dean – do you mind if we don't go to Bobby's right away?"

He gave his brother a skeptical look, thinking that Sam was giving him some runaround to get out of Bobby's specialized drunk-tank.

"I just wanna… you know… celebrate." Sam shrugged and gave him the puppy-dog eyes from underneath his over-long hair. "We did it, Dean. We stopped her… and I'd like to go out and have a couple drinks, and have a little fun before you lock me away for a week to dry out."

"What about when you crash and we're two days from Bobby's?" He wouldn't have anywhere to take him until the juice wore off if they stayed. The thought of gagging Sam and tying him to a bed in a fleabag hotel made him cringe a little inside.

"With all the blood I just drank? I'm good for a week. Easy." Sam fixed him with those pleading eyes again. "Please, Dean? Just one night? We just stopped the fucking Apocalypse, man."

And Dean couldn't argue with a request like that. He wouldn't mind a little long over-due celebrating himself.

"Sure, Sam. Sounds good." He walked over to the little girl's body and hefted her over his shoulder. Her head lolled and brittle pieces of her cotton dress broke off and stuck to his t-shirt. What was left of his soul died a little. He walked past Sam, and tried to ignore the impassive look his brother gave the dead body.

* * *

He had called Bobby while he'd been loading the bodies into the dumpster. He'd had to drag the bodies of Denim Jacket and the others outside by himself as Sam was still a little out of it. He had his arms locked around the chest of the former demon, dragging his heels along the floor and out the threshold to the dumpster in the back. Bobby had picked up with an audible sigh. He could almost see the grizzled hunter sink into his desk chair and bury his balding head in his hands in relief.

"_So it's over?_" his tired voice came through the speaker next to his ear.

"It's over, Bobby. We stopped it."

"_And Sam was doin some mojo?_"

"Yeah, but he doesn't know how he did it." He paused for a moment before adding, "Lilith struck him with some spell that was meant for me. Sam jumped in front of it, and she looked scared when it didn't kill him."

"_She couldn't take him out with the white light before either. Maybe this was the same deal and her magic just doesn't have the desired effect on the kid._"

"I hope that's what it is."

"_What are ya thinking, boy?_"

"Maybe the spell she hit him with triggered something in him," he voiced the worry that had been nagging at him since Sam flung the little girl across the room.

"_Like a Power-Up in those idjit video games you liked to play when you were kids?_"

"Yeah, something like that."

"_Well, we'll worry about that when you boys get back here._"

"About that… Sam wants a night to celebrate before we head out there."

"_Celebrate?_" Dean could just see the eyebrow cock up into the air.

"A couple of beers, maybe a girl if he's lucky – fuck knows he could use one that wasn't a black-eyed demon whore… But I couldn't say no, Bobby. He just iced Lilith and took a Death-Ball for me. And it might be awhile before we get a chance to do something normal like that again." He was remembering the screaming and the animalistic howling, and the withdrawn zombie-ish behavior last time, and he wasn't sure if it would be easier or worse this go around.

"_Why was Lilith gunning so hard for you anyway? I thought it was Sam she was after?_"

Dean didn't want to tell Bobby this part, as the guilt was enough to cripple him, but out of anyone, Bobby deserved to know the truth. He took a deep breath and said, "I was the final seal." There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. "It's why the angels pulled me outta hell in the first place. Sonsofbitches were gunning for the Royal Rumble all along."

"_You were the final seal?_"

"Yeah, they had to kill the one who broke the first seal to unlock Lucifer's cell."

"_And those bastard angels were behind all this?_"

"Seems like it," he said sullenly. The betrayal ran deep.

There was a pause, and then, "_If I ever see that feathered sonofabitch Castiel again, I'll kill 'im._" It didn't seem like such an empty vow coming from Bobby. If anyone could find a way to kill anything, it was Bobby.

"We'll see you in a couple days, Bobby."

"_Ya done good, Kid. Now take care and be vigilant. Just cuz the queen is dead, don't mean there aren't a score of others lined up for a shot at the two of ya._"

"Well, aren't you just the Blue Bird of Happiness today," he groused, smiling a little at Bobby's unsaid words.

"_Just you two idjits watch your asses_."

"We will, Bobby. See you in a few." He flipped his phone shut and headed back inside to get Sam before he lit the match and they skedaddled outta there.

* * *

It was early evening when they went into the bar. It was pretty sparse in there, barely past eight and only the die-hards and slot junkies in attendance. It didn't matter. They were alive and he felt like a new man. Granted, both of them looked like they'd just gone a few rounds with Tito Ortiz and lost, but they were fucking alive and life was good.

They ordered a pitcher of beer, played a few games of pool against each other just for fun, which they never did. There was always some hustle to be played, and he couldn't remember the last time they just _played_ for the sake of playing. Sam was good. He even beat him the second game by making some miracle Hail-Mary shot which had Sam laughing in disbelief.

"Did you see that? Did you freaking _**see**_ that? _Whoo_!"

"Great shot, Sam. Still working a little of that new mojo to beat me at pool I see," he teased him.

"What? I'm appalled that you would suggest that I'm cheating. That was skill – pure and simple."

"Skill my ass, Bitch. Let's see you do it again."

_(- - Party Heard Around the World, by Lonestar - -)_

Dean won the next game, they downed another pitcher, and by the time the last game was played, the place was filling up nicely. He scanned the room, looking for some inviting company. Saturday night in Trenton had a lot of lovely females out and dressed to kill. Sam made his way towards the bar to refresh their drinks, and ended up bee-lining for a couple blondes giggling at the bar.

He couldn't help but smile at Sam talking up the good looking girls. He was favoring one pretty heavily, leaning in and saying something in her ear to which she swatted him in the chest playfully. He winced a little but the chick didn't see it. Apparently, these girls didn't mind someone who looked like he'd been worked over with a pair of knuckle dusters. Good news for Sammy, cuz he looked pretty rough with the black eye he was sporting.

After a good ten minutes of flirting, Sam led the blondes back to their table, an arm around the shoulders of the one he'd been concentrating on, a hand on the small of the back of the other. The second looked like his type – scantily dressed and wearing one of those straw cowboy hats he'd heard dubbed _'Ho-Hats'_. He liked Ho-Hats on chicks. They were normally less work to get them to go back to his room with him.

So as Sam led them towards their table, Ho-Hat smiled at him, and he smiled back.

_Yeah… this is gonna be easy_.

He pulled a chair out for Ho-Hat, whose name was Kelli, or Kristi or something, it didn't matter.

"…So you guys are in the UFC?" Mindy, or Mandy – it didn't matter, said.

_He told them we were in the UFC? Oh… That's rich_.

"Well, we're trying to get in. It's a tough market though," Sam shrugged, taking a swig of his beer and winking at his girl, whatever her name was, with his good eye.

She reached up and tentatively touched his black eye. "This looks like it hurts bad."

"Yeah, you wouldn't believe the size of the girl that gave it to me."

Both girls looked at Sam funny, until they realized he must be making a joke and they burst into giggles.

Dean snorted into his beer, masking his amusement by asking Ho-Hat what she did.

"I work in a nail salon." She flashed her perfectly manicured nails at him as if they should've been an indication. He allowed himself a second to imagine what sort of damage those nails could do to his back, and he grinned at her, deciding she looked like she'd be worth the love marks. The UFC cover Sam used would also mean he could explain away the giant bruise across his back from slamming into the steel column. And the pain in his boys had definitely receded enough to be able to get the job done if Ho-Hat was willing.

More drinks, more conversation, more coy flirting going on all around, Mitzy-whatever leading Sam out to the dance floor where he held her close and moved slowly despite the fast beat of the music – all the while whispering in her ear over the loud beat. And Ho-Hat was biting her lip and looking at him like she was starved and he was a freaking Happy Meal…

_Life. Is. Good._

"That looks like it hurts," she slid in close and reached up, softly touched his split lip with her slender fingers. He could feel the heat of her body where it touched him in a couple places. He snaked an arm around her waist, settling his hand on her hip and pulling her even closer.

He lightly nipped at the fingers, grinning at her mischievously and giving her a wink. "I'll live."

"I certainly hope so… At least until morning."

_Scoooooore!_ In his mind he was doing a touchdown dance.

With that none-so-subtle hint, he leaned down and kissed her. Her fingers played with the short hairs on the back of his head, the perfect fingernails sending shivers down his spine and _yup_, everything was definitely all better in Little-Dean land.

Muffy came back, smiling embarrassingly at interrupting them.

"I find it hard to believe that Sam left you here all alone," he teased her.

_Not if those bruised lips you're sporting are any indication of what you two were up to_. He smirked internally. _Go Sammy_.

"He headed back to the washroom." She nodded with her head towards the back of the bar. "He'll be back in a minute." Missy leaned in close to Ho-Hat, and whispered, "I'm gonna leave with this guy. Are you okay here with him?"

"Yeah, we're fine. I'm kinda hoping to be outta here soon myself."

_Whoo!_

"He's really cute." _Giggle_.

"They both are." _Giggle_.

Dean covered his amused grin with a swig of his beer. They thought they were being all discreet, but the liquor and the loud music was playing hell on their senses, and they were a helluva lot louder than they thought they were.

Molly was looking around a little anxiously after a few minutes.

_Wait, wait, wait. Molly ain't right. What the hell was her name?_

And after ten minutes, Sam still didn't come back.

"Maybe he got sick." Ho-Hat offered with a shrug as an explanation to her disgruntled looking friend.

"I'll go check on my brother, Ladies. I'll be right back." He moved past them, making his way through the crowd towards the back where there was line up for the john. He shoved his way to the front of the line, ignoring the irritated growls of '_wait in line like the rest of us,_ _asshole_' and waving off one guy at the front who tried to grab his arm.

"I'm just looking for my brother man, I think he's in there." He yanked his arm out of the guy's grip and gave him a withering scowl that had the douche hold his hands up in the air in a mock surrender.

Shouldering his way past the guys in the washroom, he called out, "Sam?" There was no answer. "Sam?" he called again, earning a few stares from the other men in the washroom. He quickly scanned the shoes under the stall doors, and none of them were the size fifteens Sam wore. More curious looks met his quickly agitated state. "Anyone see a really tall guy? Shaggy hair? Black eye? Built like a fridge?"

"Lookin for a date, Buddy?" One of the guys jeered drunkenly. "There's a spot down on the river front where you might have more luck."

"Naw, man. The Trannies don't like when you give 'em black eyes," another joked, ribbing his friend.

"You know that from experience?" Drunk-Dick-One said to Drunk-Dick-Two, to more guffaws from the other drunks and Dean had it.

Dean huffed and pushed his way out. He went out front, thinking that maybe Sam went looking for some air. He might have been feeling sick – he did have a lot to drink, and he was a lot more aggressive in pursuing the girls than he normally was which could be attributed to the liquor. But Sam wasn't out front. He circled the place, but Sam wasn't anywhere in sight. Dean went back into the bar, grabbed his leather coat from the back of his chair, and ignored the indignant voices of the two women at the table for his abrupt departure.

He didn't want to consider that Sam got nabbed by the demons Bobby had warned him about while he was busy trying to score with some chick. But Sam wasn't back at the motel and the Impala was still gleaming in the corner of the lot. Dean checked the coffee shop next to the motel with no luck before going back to the bar. He tried Sam's cell a dozen times but kept getting dumped into voicemail. His growing sense of alarm was justified in a way he hadn't considered when he got back to the drinking establishment and saw a guy holding a bloody towel to his face and yelling about some big dude who punched him and stole his car.

"Dammit Sam, what did you do?" Dean growled while pushing his way back out the door.

* * *

Dean tried to track his brother down. He looked into the stolen cars reported after the one owned by that guy from the bar turned up abandoned on the other side of town. More reports came in of stolen cars, and Dean realized that Trenton was the freaking car-theft-capital of the world with the dozen reports phoned in over a twenty-four hour period. After a day of fruitless searching he called in Bobby to help. The entire time he was waiting for Bobby's flight to get in, he was still pounding the pavement, just trying to get a whiff of Sam's scent. All he could think was that Sam had been playing him and had used the line about wanting to go out for some fun so that he could ditch him and go out in search of more demon blood and get his fix.

Bobby arrived and restrained himself from tearing him a new one for losing his junkie brother. They had tried the phone company trick of getting them to turn on the GPS in the phone, but they came back saying the phone was either turned off, or the chip was removed because they were getting no signal. Dean and Bobby were at a total loss.

Just like John Winchester, Sam wouldn't be found unless he wanted to be.

**

* * *

**

**Three Weeks Ago:**

Their first break-through came nearly a week later when they were in Mansfield, Pennsylvania. Dean was sitting in a dirty diner with Bobby drinking bad coffee and pretending to eat the greasy burger in front of him. He hadn't had much appetite since Sam went missing, but he was sick of the looks Bobby kept giving him. Picking up a fry, Dean felt a vibration in his pocket.

_My phone!_

Hope surged through him that one of their contacts had seen or heard of Sam's location. Dean pulled out his cell and nearly wept at the sight of the name on the screen.

"Sammy?" Dean called eagerly as he flipped open the phone.

"_Dean?_" Sam's voice sounded small and frightened. The big brother in Dean kicked in right away at the vulnerable timbre to Sam's voice.

"Sammy, where are you?" he demanded. Bobby was sitting forward as if to catch a whisper of Sam's voice coming out of the piece of plastic in Dean's hand.

"_Dean… I-I don't…"_

Fuck, he was just so grateful to hear the guy's voice.

"Just tell me where you are, Sam."

"_Dean – I…_" Sam said, hesitantly.

"I don't care, Sam. I don't care why you took off, just tell me where you are and I'll come get you."

"_Potsdam, New York_." Sam mumbled off a street address.

"Me and Bobby will be there in a couple of hours. Just stay there and wait for us."

"_Okay_," his voice went really small and he could hear the guilt creeping into it. It set off all the alarm bells in his head.

"What is it, Sam? What happened?"

"_Just… just hurry_." And didn't that have him jumping to his feet. Images of his brother with blood all over his face and shirtfront and an almost orgasmic expression on his face as he fed from a demon, burned through his gray matter.

"Hold on Sam. We're on our way."

"_Okay Dean. I'll see you soon_," Sam whispered before snapping his phone shut.

"He's in New York. Up-State," Dean exhaled, rubbing his hand over his face. "He sounds bad."

Bobby pushed his chair away from the table, his sorry-excuse-for-a meal forgotten. "Well," his gruff voice started. "Let's go get 'im."


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Kripke's toys, my sandbox. Thanks for letting me play.

**Chapter 5**

Three Weeks Ago:

"_Hold on Sam. We're on our way."_

"_Okay Dean. I'll see you soon," Sam whispered before snapping his phone shut._

"_He's in New York. Up-State," Dean exhaled, rubbing his hand over his face. "He sounds bad."_

_Bobby pushed his chair away from the table, his sorry-excuse-for-a meal forgotten. "Well," his gruff voice started. "Let's go get 'im."_

* * *

The drive took too long for Dean's liking. He wanted to be there and he wanted to be there now. Breaking every speed limit between Mansfield and Potsdam, the two hunters arrived outside a small, white, one-and-a-half story house in the early evening. The darkening sky and the chill April air seemed to eat its way straight to Dean's bones.

There was a grey sedan in the driveway but the house was completely dark. There wasn't a single light on and the curtains were all drawn. Bobby and Dean exchanged a knowing look and both hunters drew their pieces. Both men had too many years in the field with nothing but their instincts and they knew something wasn't right.

Sneaking around to a side door, Dean looked in the window to see a dark kitchen and nothing else. Withdrawing his lock picking set from his pocket, he went to work on the lock while Bobby kept watch. Thirty seconds and they were in. They stepped cautiously into the house and the first thing that hit them was the smell. Blood and death and fear were all too familiar to the two men and they knew something very bad had happened here. Dean prayed that his brother was alive.

Carefully checking each room with their guns drawn, they found nothing on the first floor. Bobby nodded his head at the stairs and Dean took point on the way to the second floor.

At the top of the stairs is where they found her. Her dark hair obscured her face but there was a trail of blood leading from the body to a bedroom. She was face down in a puddle of her own drying blood, one hand outstretched as if still seeking escape even in death. She had been stabbed multiple times but had managed to drag herself from her area of attack and out to the hallway. Dean steeled himself before peering into the bedroom, afraid that he would find his brother's body in there.

And whoever did this was gonna pay.

Dean flipped on the bedroom light, ready to fire if the attacker was still in there, but there was no one. The room was empty, and no Sam anywhere.

"He in there?" Bobby called softly, worry straining his voice.

"No." Dean felt a brief wash of relief until he stepped into the room, and saw on the wall _'you're too late'_ written in blood above the blood-soaked bed. A large hand print at the end, looking like a twisted version of a child's finger painting, made Dean's knees weaken.

"No," he whispered, back-peddling out of the room and into Bobby, who was crouched over the body of the girl.

"She can't have been dead more than a coupla hours," Bobby whispered, brushing the hair from her face and shining his flash light on her.

Dean couldn't help the sharp intake of breath when Bobby revealed her face. "_Sarah_…"

Bobby looked up sharply, "You know her?"

Dean swallowed hard, and nodded. "Yeah. We were working a case – a haunted painting. She worked in her father's gallery and she helped us track it down." Dean stood there, holding his gun loosely at his side. "She kinda had a thing for Sam," he added softly, leaning a hand against the wall to steady himself as the earth threatened to open up and swallow him whole.

_Sarah…_

"Well, whoever did this is long gone. Do you think they took Sam or did he go after 'em?" Bobby questioned. Dean felt as if his mouth was stuffed with cotton. "Dean?" Bobby stood up, taking in the paleness that had come over the younger man and his shallow breathing. "What is it, Son?"

Dean searched Bobby's brown eyes with his green ones. "Bobby…" Dean started, feeling like the world had just tipped on its fucking axis. "Bobby… I think Sam did this."

* * *

Dean and Bobby were camped out in a cheap and dirty motel in Munfordville Kentucky, just off of I65. A barely touched pizza and a pile of empty paper coffee cups littered the rickety table. Bobby was trying to read a newspaper while at the same time, trying to ignore Dean's restless pacing. They had been on Sam's trail for a week. A week of stale clues and intuition, a week of non-stop driving and pavement pounding, and one night of horrible revelations. Dean could still see the bloody lettering on the wall of that poor girl's bedroom – _'you're too late'_. An involuntary shiver ran down his back at the memory of the giant handprint. He and Bobby had come to the conclusion that Sam had to be possessed for him to commit something so terrible. Because there was no way that he was about to entertain the idea of Sam going dark-side and doing that on his own. They figured that a demon must have gotten hold of him at the bar and took possession of him. He hoped that they found Sam soon, for all their sakes. And once they did, that demon fuck was gonna pay for stealing his brother from him.

Frustrated, Bobby slammed down his paper and groused, "Dean! Will you sit the hell down!"

Dean turned on him and was about to get into a heated dispute, but was interrupted by a knock at the door.

Both hunters exchanged a look and brought their hand guns out of their respective hiding spots; Dean's from the back of his jeans and Bobby's from a shoulder holster. He moved to the side of the door, Bobby just behind him. At a nod, Dean jerked open the door and pulled the startled girl into the room. Kicking the door shut, he and Bobby both pointed their weapons at the sleight brunette.

"What are you doing here, Ruby?" Dean growled, still holding his gun on her.

"Those guns aren't going to do much to me, Dean," she scowled. "You should know better too, Bobby – you shot me once," she reminded the older hunter.

Neither man made a move to lift their weapon from her. She lifted her head a little more and what Dean had first guessed was shadowing from the crappy lighting, was really bruising in various stages of healing. Her nose looked like it had been broken, there were cuts on her forehead and chin, and her face was a multitude of colors from sickly yellow and green to an offensive purple.

Not showing a lot of sympathy to the demon, Dean asked callously, "What happened to your face?"

"Sam happened," she replied simply.

"Sam!" Dean lowered his gun but gripped her shoulders and shoved her into the wall. Shaking her so that her head bounced off the plaster, "Where is he, you bitch?" he demanded.

"I don't know."

Dean slammed her again, and then a second time, yelling, "I don't believe you! Where is my brother?"

"I don't know!" she screamed back, trying to push him off her.

"Liar! You've always known how to find him! Find him and peddle your fucking poison! Now where is he?" Dean brought his gun to her throat, jamming the muzzle into the underside of her chin. "I know this won't kill you, bitch," he hissed. "But it will hurt like hell and it will make an awful mess of that body you're riding."

Dean pushed the muzzle brutally into the soft flesh, forcing her head back. "Now tell me where Sam is, or so help me, I will paint these walls with your blood, you demon whore."

"I don't know," she ground out, teeth bared.

"Bobby!" Dean barked, not taking his eyes off Ruby. "Gimme the knife. I'm gonna do a little carving on Hellfire Barbie here." If there was anything he would risk the Hell-and-Alastair's-star-pupil-flashbacks on, it would be torturing this bitch and finding Sam.

"Dean," Bobby started, clearly thinking along the same lines he was, and that torture might not be the yellow-brick-road they wanted to travel.

"Dean! Wait!" Ruby shouted. "I'm telling the truth! I don't know where Sam is, he's using a Hex Bag against me."

"And how would Sam know how to make a Hex Bag?"

"Because he's not Sam and you know it!" she hissed angrily. "And he's hanging out with some interesting new friends lately, just so you know."

"New friends?" he asked caustically.

"And not the kind that would bail him outta jail."

"Ruby, you better start talking fast, or I swear to God, I will put a bullet in your head before I ram that knife into your throat."

"Cool your jets, Dean," Ruby said snidely as she extricated herself from his grip and sat cross-legged on one of the beds. She may have been out of his grip, but as Dean claimed the rickety chair next to Bobby's, she was well aware that both hunters were still holding their guns and the silver and bone handle knife was white-knuckle-gripped in his hand.

"Ruby," Bobby began, striving for patience, "Who's possessing Sam?"

"Tell me you're kidding," she said incredulously, staring at Dean.

"Who. The. Fuck. Has. Sam."

"Lilith."

"She's dead. Sam killed her."

"No. She's not. She's riding Sam now."

"We didn't kill her?" Images of that little girl stuck to the wall and burning swam in front of him and he felt like he was about to be sick.

"Yeah. But a lot of good that newsflash does for you." Ruby rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest haughtily.

"Ruby," Bobby growled, "Neither of us wants to hear anything outta yer smart mouth other than what we need to know." Dean started staring at her with such venom in his eyes that it was a wonder that she didn't turn to stone or burst into flame in front of them.

"Fine," Ruby snipped while rolling her eyes again. And fuck did he ever want to shove her knife into her face. She leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees, looking intently at the hunters. "Sam is possessed. The monster doing all these horrible things is one hundred percent Lilith."

Dean lurched at Ruby, fist reared back to punch her. The demon jumped to her feet and raised her arms to ward off the blow that didn't fall. He knew that Sam had to be possessed… but having Ruby look at him with that accusatory glare like he personally shoved Lilith up Sam's ass made him snap. Bobby had grabbed Dean's arm and only Dean's deepest respect for the older man kept him from turning his fists on him instead.

"Dean, we need to hear what she has to say," Bobby ground out.

"She's a lying bitch!" he shouted. "She's been leading Sam around by the balls since day one and now she's here and she's gonna try to sell her lies to us!'

"Look dick-head," Ruby cursed. "You can sit there and lie to yourself all you want, but that doesn't change the fact that Lilith's jumped the good-ship Sammy-pop, and started up a new little shop of horrors – complete with house calls. The bitch has just stepped up her game."

Dean was breathing hard, his nostrils flaring as he glowered at the demon. Bobby pushed him back into his chair – none too gently. "Get on with it Ruby," Bobby growled. "How did Lilith possess Sam? He has an anti-possession tattoo."

"When you two went after Lilith," she asked Dean, "Did she do anything to physically attack Sam? She could never magic her way through that ward, but physically? Did she harm him?"

"Of course she harmed him!" he said scathingly. "She was tossing spells around like rice at a freaking wedding!"

Ruby closed her eyes and her lips went thin as if she were desperately trying to restrain herself. Taking a short breath, "Did she do anything that you're aware of that would compromise Sam's ward?"

"No, I don't think so… I…" and then it hit him. It was like a goal shot on instant replay and he saw the whole thing in slow-mo. Little-girl-Lilith leaping at Sam, standing on his hips and wrenching on his hair as she stabbed him in the chest over and over with a fucking pen.

_Can you believe that little bitch stabbed me with a pen? Whatever you do, don't tell Bobby that one._

He. Was. A. _Moron_.

Lilith was in him even then, playing him and doing the Sammy-dance, and_ don't tell Bobby_… Fuck. Cuz he had let it go immediately because Sam asked him to. He hadn't even thought about it because the pen wounds had seemed the least of their troubles at the time with a kid bursting into Sammy-mojo-flame and blood leaking outta Sam's nose and him passing out an all. He hadn't even patched up the pen wounds – Sam had done it. Well… Lilith did. Demon didn't want him to see the damage to the tattoo.

"She stabbed him in the chest with a pen," he whispered. Ruby hung her head and buried her face in her hands. "So much went down so fast that I didn't even think about it."

After a minute, Ruby seemed to pull herself back to her arrogant self. That was enough for him to snap out of it and glare hatefully at the demon whore.

"When she took Sam's body," she started, "every demon within two hundred miles knew it. Demons give off an energy when they use their powers that other demons can track – if they don't care to use hex-bags to conceal themselves. The more powerful the demon, the more powerful the energy field." She paused to glare at Dean who was still giving her death stares. "You following all this Short-bus?"

"Ruby!" Bobby warned.

"Anyway, when Lilith snagged him, it was like a big supernova exploded. This huge energy field washed out like an atomic bomb and all the demons in the area were scared shitless because what on earth was powerful enough to leave that kind of a signal? The big thing was, these energy fields that are given off have a certain frequency that distinguish one demon from another – like a signature. Suddenly, there was a new energy that no one had felt before, and it was growing in strength so fast that in moments, it was pulsing so strongly that I'd guess any demon in the North-East could feel it."

"What does all this have to do with my brother?" Dean said darkly.

Ruby stared at him like he was slow. "Dean, that energy was coming _from_ your brother."

"That's not possible."

"Well, from Lilith riding Sam's stunning abs," she amended. "She's stronger than ever in his body."

"What would make Sam such a powerful host?" Bobby asked, trying to distance himself from the subject like a doctor does when he's trying to find out what's wrong with you, even though Sam was the closest thing he had to family and this whole thing was tearing Bobby up just as bad as it was him.

"I'd say that little bit of Yellow-Eyes' blood he's been carrying around all these years." She was looking at Bobby and ignoring Dean.

"I'll bet the top-ups you've been giving him didn't hurt things either," he shot at her.

She at least had the sense to look ashamed. "It probably didn't help. I didn't know – if that's any consolation to you."

Dean cracked his knuckles, wanting to add to the colorful palette she was already sporting on her face. "It's not."

"Did the boy ever give off anything before?" Bobby intervened, trying to steer the questioning back to useful territory.

"He's always had a very weak signal, more like a vibration you see in a glass of water when someone walks past it. It was almost negligible. Now…" she trailed off, trying to find the right words for what she wanted to say.

"Now, what?" Dean demanded.

"Look," she snapped, "if Lilith was like a lighthouse, Lilith in Sam's body is a damn homing-beacon. And they're attracting all sorts of new followers who want a piece of the promised bloodbath. All the fence straddlers have finally chosen a side, and it's not the one that ends well."

"How did this happen?" Dean moaned tiredly, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands.

"Dean, I need you to tell me everything that happened in that final battle with Lilith," Ruby insisted.

So he told her the whole story, about Sam juicing up and using his powers to kill the demon bodyguards, about the fight in the warehouse. When he mentioned Sam jumping in front of the ball of black light meant for him, and then Sam's ability to throw Lilith across the room, Ruby halted him.

"Wait, wait, wait," Ruby interrupted. "Are you telling me that Lilith hit Sam with a ball of light, and then he miraculously was able to tap these extraordinary powers and kill the bitch?"

"That's what I said."

"Oh fuck," she groaned, burying her face in her hands.

"What is it?" Bobby asked.

"That's how she did it. That spell she was going to hit Dean with must have been a trick to get Sam to leap in front of it. Sam was trying to protect you and stop the Apocalypse, and he got hit with the A-Bomb. That wasn't a spell she hit him with – it was her."

"Her?" he deadpanned.

"Her…" Ruby didn't seem to have the right word on her and said, "…_Essence?_"

"So she hit Sam with her '_Essence'_ and she took him, and then… then… the little girl." A fresh wave of guilt washed over him.

"That was just a little girl that Sam killed… Er… that Lilith killed," she quickly corrected herself when he looked at her with all the hate he could muster – which said a lot.

"Oh hell," Bobby sighed.

It made him sick remembering the fear in the little girl's eyes after Lilith threw the black spell. He had thought it was Lilith begging for her life, not the girl finally released from her mind-prison.

_Please no…_

The room was silent for a moment, everyone lost to their own thoughts. Dean's were a mess of flashing lights, of Lilith pinned to the wall, and of the satisfied look in Sam's eyes when she burst into flame. Sam telling him that he wanted a night to celebrate before heading back to Bobby's. It had all been her plan. Get him drinking, get him preoccupied with a chick, and he should have freaking _**known**_ something was wrong because Sam didn't pick up random chicks like that. He glanced at Ruby, still cross-legged on the bed and staring blankly into the corner. The light hitting her face at that angle illuminated the bend in her nose and the bruises that were marring her features.

"You said Lilith did that to you?" he said to break the silence, gesturing to her face.

Ruby lightly touched her cheek, "Yeah… but she had help."

"All the new followers?" Bobby questioned.

"They swarmed me when I said I didn't want to join their club," she said flatly.

"What happened?" Dean asked, "Why did you go looking for him?"

"I hadn't seen him since you told me to take a hike; and I didn't go looking for him," Ruby added. There may have been a little bitterness in her voice, but Dean might have imagined it.

"So what happened?" Bobby pressed her.

"She summoned me. She had a whole group of demons with her, including her new BFF, Connor. And just to warn you both, Connor is bad news."

"Connor? That the same bastard that caused all that trouble in Louisiana several years back?"

"That's him."

"Shit," the old man cursed, slapping the tabletop with his palm.

"You know that guy?" Dean asked him, trying to peg in the pieces around the '_please no_' still echoing around in his skull.

"Yeah. It was a case I was working on awhile back. Your daddy joined in at the end. Sonofabitch raised a couple zombies and set them on this family on the Texas-Louisiana border. They tore the family apart, and we got there too late to save them except for the girl and her boyfriend. Connor scrammed outta there and I've never been able to find him since."

"What can you tell us about Connor?" he asked the demon sitting on the bed.

"He was once a Druid priest who ran dark side and sold his soul to avenge his brother's death. Trust me – he's bad news. Any way, when I showed up, all of a sudden the freaky new energy that I'd been feeling made sense, it was rolling off him like a bad smell. And I was scared because it wasn't Sam anymore. He was looking at me like he was hungry, and I was surrounded by the worst the pit had to offer and I didn't have anything to fight back with." Ruby licked her lips, a dark shadow falling across her features and her eyes turning to inky black for a moment.

"She wanted you to join 'er?" Bobby asked.

"She made me an offer… and I turned her down. I tried to leave, but that wasn't a part of the party's entertainment."

"Is that when she used your face as a piñata?" Dean bit out.

She looked at her hands folded in her lap before looking up to meet Dean's gaze. "There's something I haven't told you yet," she admitted, biting her lip.

"What?" he asked darkly, a feeling of danger creeping up his spine.

"Where he was when he summoned me – we were in a house, and we weren't alone. It was a couple's home and they were tied up in the middle of the floor." She swallowed hard. "The guy was already dead."

"They were holding 'em hostage?" Bobby asked, his brow wrinkling.

"They were torturing them for sport."

"Sonofabitch," he whispered.

Ruby looked at Dean then, and he could have sworn that her eyes looked wet – if that were possible for a demon. "I'm sorry Dean, there was nothing I could do. The woman was screaming at Sam, begging him to let her go, but he just laughed," she choked. "She thought he was Sam, and he told her she should never have broken his brother's heart."

Dean jumped up from his chair, and crossed the room in two strides to grab Ruby's shoulders and shake her. "What did you say?" he demanded.

"That she broke your heart and he was going to make her pay for it."

Dean could taste bile in the back of his throat. "Who was it?" He shook her again and shouted, "Who was it!"

"Her name was Cassie!" Ruby cried out, pulling out of Dean's vice-like grip. "Lilith killed her herself!"

Dean's head swam. He tried to brace himself on the edge of the bed, but slumped to the floor.

_Cassie_.

Cassie and her deep brown eyes. Cassie and her wild black curls. Cassie and her no-nonsense attitude, who never once failed to call him on his bullshit. That had been one of the main things about her that made him fall in love with her; that she was so head-strong and determined. And now she was dead all because of him.

_Cassie..._

Dean hadn't been aware that the painful keening sound he was hearing was coming from him. Bobby grabbed him under his arms and pulled him to a standing position, wrapping his fists into Dean's shirt to keep him upright. Dean hung his head, scrubbing his face with his hands as tears ran down his cheeks. His world was falling apart. Lilith stole Sam from him and was using his body to kill people, and a woman he had loved once was dead by his brother's hijacked hands. The injustice of it all hit him in the gut like a sucker punch.

It was then that Ruby made a slight noise as she shifted uncomfortably only a few feet away. Dean pushed himself out of Bobby's grasp and launched himself at the demon's stomach, tackling her to the ground. He rained blows on her from above, punishing her already abused face. He wanted to kill her with his bare hands because, somehow, all this was her fault. The blame had to fall somewhere and Dean wasn't ready to accept any of it for himself yet.

Dean was shouting out as he punched her over and over. _'Why didn't you stop them! Why didn't you save her! You stupid bitch, this is all your fault!'_ All the while Ruby struggled to protect herself and Bobby was trying to pull Dean off of her. Ruby managed to land a stinging blow to the side of Dean's face while at the same time Bobby was able to haul the younger hunter off the demon.

Ruby was crouched on the floor on her hands and knees. Blood was running from her nose and mouth, her teeth were bared and her eyes had gone jet black. She was breathing raggedly, and was looking at Dean like she wanted to rip him limb from limb. Bobby was holding onto Dean from behind, his burly arms locked around the younger man's chest and throat, keeping him from attacking Ruby again. Dean's chest was rising and falling rapidly as he struggled with the surge of adrenaline that was coursing through his system. His normally handsome face was wild and pained, and an angry mark was already blossoming on his cheek from where Ruby slugged him.

"I did try to save her!" she screamed. "I was out-numbered! I was surrounded and beaten! I couldn't even smoke outta there because that bastard Connor marked me!" She ripped up the sleeve of her shirt to reveal an infected looking mark on her shoulder that looked like someone carved it there with a butter knife. The surrounding flesh was an angry red while the wound itself was leaking a green pus. "He bound me to this body with a spell I'd never heard before and I have no idea how to counter it!"

Bobby could feel the fight leaving Dean and released him.

"So how did you get away then, Ruby? Why did you come to find us?" Dean demanded.

"Lilith let me go to deliver a message to you," she hissed. "She said for me to tell you that she's not finished yet. She's got one seal left and you're it." Dean swallowed involuntarily at the ominous-ness of her statement.

Ruby spat out a wad of blood onto the carpet. "If you really wanted to, you could run and hide and the angels and demons wouldn't find you. Or you could take your own life and leave Lucifer locked in his cage forever because it's gotta be Lilith to kill you to pop the lock. So she's doing this so that you'll come after her. She knows she's bulletproof while using Sam to do her dirty work. And she knows you'll never take the easy way out when there are others at stake; or if there was a chance that you could save your brother. But I have to tell you, Dean, Sam's not in there anymore."

"Lying bitch!" He lunged for her again but Bobby grabbed him and hauled him back. He couldn't even see straight, what with all the red haze clouding the edges of his vision.

"Dean!" Bobby barked.

"He's gone!" she screamed. "It's only his body she's riding around in! He's gone and you can't save him and you can't risk your life trying to! It's what she wants!"

Dean would be lying if he didn't admit to himself that the thought that she might be telling the truth about Sam made him afraid. He bit back the fear, and sneered, "So you delivered your message; there's the door, don't let it hit you on the way out."

"I'm not leaving," she stated hotly.

"You sure as hell ain't staying here!" He'd kill her the second her back was turned.

"As good as you two are, you can't take on all those demons yourselves. I want to help."

"Help?"' Dean said incredulously, "And why on earth would you want to help? After all the bullshit you caused the last two years, why would you want to help?"

"Because I loved him," she snarled. "Because she took him from me. Because she took _everything_ from me. Because I helped create that monster, and I want to help put a stop to this before she sets the world on fire."

"If you're so keen to help," he roared, "…why did you send us into that trap in the first place?"

"What trap?"

"In Trenton! We were there because you called Sam and told him that Lilith was there!"

"I did no such thing, you idiot! I would never send him up against her alone like that. I would have been there to help you both! I would've died trying!"

"Like I'm supposed to believe that," he scoffed. "He came outta that gas station practically singing the address you gave him."

"Did he say that he called me, or that I called him?"

"What difference does the fucking semantics make?"

"Because, Genius, the angels like screwing with people's phones. It's a nice, neat way to handle the dirty work of manipulating them. So if Sam said I called him with Lilith's hide-out, I'd bet it was one of the double-crossing angel douchebags pretending to be me. You do remember that the angels can't be trusted since they want you dead, right?"

"Goddamn angels!" Bobby growled, picking up a book and hurling it at a wall.

"How long have you known the angels were working with Lilith?"

"I just found out from the horse's mouth." She looked away for a second, clearly trying to put her thoughts in order. "And I didn't know that you were the final seal either. I would have warned you if I knew."

"Like I'm supposed to believe that. You'd love to see me dead."

"No. I wouldn't. Because when you were in hell, it was killing Sam. And I would have done anything to save him from that."

"Because you loved him," he mocked her in a girly voice.

"Think what you want," she whispered. "But I only wanted what was best for him. You were the one that made him choose – and of course he chose _**you**_. He would _**always**_ choose you. He chose you and left me behind and I would love to see you suffer for that, but not if the result is the fucking devil walking the earth. The Sam I loved… the Sam _you_ loved… wouldn't want that."

He couldn't even speak right now, not with all the shit stirred up inside him. Not with the whore behind the whole mess looking at him and telling him that she loved his brother. That everything she did was because she loved him and wanted to help save the world. And what if she wasn't lying? What if Sam was gone, and Lilith killed Cassie, and was gonna go after everyone else he knew in order to draw him out?

It was all too much.

He gave the demon one final _fuck-you_ stare, turned on his heel, snagged the bottle of whisky from the top of the table and slammed the door behind him.

* * *

As she and Bobby were trying to straighten out the room, picking up papers and righting chairs, she couldn't help but ask him something about his story earlier that had stuck out to her.

"You met Connor on a hunt before?"

"Yeah, but the slippery bastard got away on me."

"He killed that family? Whatever happened to the girl and her boyfriend that you saved?"

"They're hunters now."

* * *

A/N: One more week! *happy dance*


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Kripke's toys, my sandbox. Thanks for letting me play.

**Chapter 6**

"_You met Connor on a hunt before?"_

"_Yeah, but the slippery bastard got away on me."_

"_He killed that family? Whatever happened to the girl and her boyfriend that you saved?"_

"_They're hunters now."_

* * *

Present Day:

Jenna halted when Bear stopped in his tracks and gave a low growl. She reached behind her, ready to whip out the M&P and blow a pretty new hole in the werewolf's chest, when she realized that something didn't feel right.

Bear wasn't growling at the trees, he was facing the drop-off, and he was looking up.

Marcus was clearly just as confused as she was. Bear was growling and adopting a fighting stance with his front paws spread low to the ground and looking like he was ready to pounce but they had no idea what was wrong with him. They were after a werewolf, an injured one at that, so what was in the night sky that the dog losing it over?

Marcus grabbed Bear's collar, giving it a snap and hissing at him to be quiet, but the giant dog wouldn't hear it. He was still glaring over the drop off and his ears were pricked and he was absolutely rigid for whatever reason that set him off.

She didn't really want to look up. To do so and have the Were jump out at her then could mean her death, or worse. But when she heard the high pitched shriek and her blood ran cold from the sound of it, she couldn't help it, and she turned.

There were three of them – blacker than the surrounding night as they blotted out stars in their passing. Giant wings spread wide as they soared straight at them, shrieking that piercing hawk's cry. They moved in so fast that she and Marcus didn't even have the time to stand together as the creatures dropped onto the trail between them, cutting her off from her man and dog.

They were nothing they'd ever encountered before, and she was scared shitless. Seven feet tall, they had the bodies of naked women, but their skin was like tough black leather. And their faces – sharp beaks and glowing yellow eyes bored into hers as the creatures hissed and snapped at the air. The giant wings she'd seen a moment ago were attached at their shoulders, and they looked more like enormous bat wings than anything else. She shuddered as she looked at the hands and feet – three digits to each, and every one ending in a vicious, curved talon.

And these three creatures were between her and the only family she had.

She pulled the M&P from her back, leveling it on the closest vulture, yelling, "Marcus!"

She didn't get a verbal answer, just the sharp crack of the black man firing into the trio of intruders. Bear was snarling on the other side of the monsters, and she heard Marcus holler, "Bear! No!" and at that she opened fire on the creatures too, because Bear just launched himself at one of the things, and it used a mighty wing to back hand the hundred-pound-plus dog like it was swatting a fly.

_Fuck_.

She emptied the magazine into the nearest one, and other than some screams of rage, it didn't even phase it. Head shots, heart shots, it didn't matter. Silver bullets apparently weren't the weapon of choice on the winged creatures.

The one she'd shot up started advancing on her, while the other two stalked Marcus. Their wings were raised, and the hissing and clicking between the three was dark and sinister sounding, sending shivers of fear down her spine. She was used to monsters – or as used to them as you can be – but these things? She didn't even know what the hell they were.

She backed up a few steps, trying to gain a little extra maneuvering room as she pulled the knife from its sheath on her waist. The creature seemed to like her fighting stance, because it seemed to smile at her as it dropped into a lower stance itself. Even crouched like it was, the thing was still nearly two feet taller than she was, and the thick muscle lining it's naked body just screamed that the thing was powerful.

She retreated again, not even daring to look at the commotion going on between her man and the other two vulture-things because the one advancing on her was reaching for her with those hooked talons, like she was a gooey dessert on a tray that the monster just had to have a bite of.

She lashed out at the reaching claws, not managing to connect the blade with the digits, and only seeming to make the monster grin even more; if a beak could grin.

She swiped again, and the creature snapped her beak at her, narrowly missing her forearm as the little hunter danced back. The vulture-woman cackled again, and Jenna realized too late that the creature was purposely pushing her back, away from Marcus and Bear. She could hear the sounds of the fight from up the trail. They were only a dozen-odd yards away, but they might as well have been a mile apart for all the good of it was. Their weapons for fighting a werewolf were no good against these creatures, and in an effort to travel light and make up lost ground, they hadn't brought much else with them.

_Fucking hell_.

The monster skulked towards her again, reaching those deadly talons towards her and snapping her ugly beak.

"You stay away from me, Bitch," she hissed, brandishing the knife and crouching low. She had to get past the beast. She had to get to Marcus and Bear, and together, they would stand a better chance at defending themselves.

The winged woman reached again, and this time she managed to slice at the claws with the knife. The creature shrieked in anger as it snatched back its hand, and Jenna used the moment to try and dart past the giant, out-stretched wings.

She was almost successful.

A mighty wing snapped out in front of her and lifted her clean off the ground as she tried to shoot past it. She sailed through the air and landed heavily on her back, knocking the breath clear out of her. She tried to scramble to her feet, but the bitch leapt on her and hissed a cackling laugh. She kicked her leg up, getting the creature in the back of her strong leg, but it did nothing. The clawed hand reached for her arm and jerked her roughly to her feet. One second she was on the ground, the next she was in the creature's arms and they were running for the drop off.

_Holy fuck, we're going flying!_

She struggled as much as she could, but the iron bands around her waist wouldn't give.

"Marcus!" she screamed.

"Jenna!"

There was a heavy thump and a drop in altitude as they reached the edge of the drop off. That thump was courtesy of Bear, who dodged the other two creatures and launched himself off the trail and onto the back of the winged monster, snarling furiously as his jaws sought purchase in the beast's neck.

The vulture-woman shrieked that hawk's cry again, twisting mid-air and trying to dislodge the weight on her back. Clearly, the monster could fly with the extra weight in her arms, but Jenna _and_ Bear were too much a load to carry. They were dropping, and the giant wings beat at the air causing great gusts to eddy around her. Still she struggled in the creature's arms, and Bear ripped and tore with those massive jaws of his, his claws dug deep into the beast's back and wing joints, and his muzzle locked on her neck.

The creature twisted and turned in the air, wings beating furiously to remain aloft but they were falling and the creature still had her in its iron grip. It shrieked out to its friends, and one of the other things left the third fighting with Marcus while it raced to the drop off and shot into the air to aid its companion.

Jenna felt herself get thrown through the air, only to be caught by the new arrival. The extra weight gone and its hands free, the beast was better able to fight the dog still locked around her neck. Free and clear, the new creature raced off into the night sky with her prize, shrieking what could only sound like a triumphant cry.

_I'm certainly not gonna to make this easy on you_, she thought, imagining this thing taking her back to feed to her young or something. And panic and fear filled her as they got higher, and she could still make out the dark shapes of her loved ones fighting the creatures. Marcus took a hard hit in the chest that sent him flying and she saw the winged monster leap into the air and land heavily on her man.

"NO!" she shrieked, "Let me go you bitch!"

She struggled and struck out at the beast, only to have it cackle at her and drop her. She screamed as she fell, arms flailing and waiting for the moment when she'd smash into the trees below that didn't come. The beast that dropped her screeched as it swooped down and plucked her from the air as easy as a dog catches a Frisbee. It had a clawed hand around one of her arms, dangling her over the tree tops as it soared low. She managed to glance back and saw that the other beast had finally succeeded in getting Bear off her back. She caught it just in time to see the bitch toss the dog into the forest below amid a series of terrified yips.

"BEAR!" she screamed frantically. "BEAR!"

Everything went red at that moment. Furious and scared and utterly beside herself at seeing her dog plummet to the trees below, and unable to see Marcus on the ledge, she lashed out at the beast. She kicked at the monster's body for all the good it did, dangling from its grip like she was. She did manage to get in one good kick at the bitch's chach with her surplus army boots. Beastie didn't like that one bit. She screamed, tossed her into the air and snagged her again, only this time she caught her around her upper arms with her feet-talons. The claws curved themselves around her shoulders like a vise, painful and pinching and cutting into the muscles of her arms.

She was a hundred feet in the air and she was trapped. She was fucked and she knew it and it was all she could do to squeeze back the tears.

"MARCUS!"

_Just jump up so I can see you still fighting._

"MARCUS!"

_It wasn't supposed to end this way_, she thought, still fighting that burning feeling in her eyes.

A voice from her past echoed in her head. A mocking and cruel voice that always seemed to make her dig deeper regardless if she had anything else left or not.

_You gonna give up and cry, little girl?_ John Winchester's deep voice reverberated around in her skull. _You're not made for this life, get out while you can before you get yourself killed_.

_No_, had always been her reply. She'd seen her family ripped to shreds and she and Marcus had set out on a life's journey to make the thing responsible pay. The demon was still out there – and Marcus was still fighting – she knew it. She wasn't giving up. She wasn't about to let this thing make her into Sunday breakfast for her mutant kids.

_No_.

"No," she hissed, digging deeper into her anger and outrage at the beast that plucked her from her family. "NO!"

Anger, white-hot and raging made her remember the small silver knife tucked into her boot. Fury and years of a hard-lived life made her grit her teeth through the pain in her shoulders as the creature's claws dug into the flesh as she used her abdominals to lift her feet up to where she could reach them. The talons tore her flesh and she screamed while digging into her boot, whipping her hand out to stab the bitch as high up in the leg as she could reach.

The bitch screamed and Jenna withdrew the short blade only to stab her again and again. The talons crushed her shoulders, digging into her with fresh zeal. She felt as if the beast was about to sever her arms clear off any second if those claws got any tighter. She just kept stabbing, black fluid oozing down the strong leg and smelling of sulfur and decay. The vulture woman screamed again, and released one of her shoulders so that she was dangling from one clawed foot. Still she stabbed and screamed her anguish, taking it out on the beast that ripped her family from her.

The creature tried to bat the knife away from her hand with one of her giant wings. Big mistake on the bitch's part. Jenna slammed the blade into the leathery skin membrane and raked the knife through, screaming in vicious victory as she severed veins and arteries and the beast shrieked in anger, and hopefully, immense pain.

They veered a sharp left out over the water of the glacial lake. The creature couldn't keep the course they were on with the giant tear down one wing. Jenna hacked at it again, getting a lot of sick satisfaction from the hawk's cry the thing let out. The second rent completed and they veered even more. The monster was trying to get them back to the right, but the two tears in the single wing made navigation impossible, and they were sinking fast. The bitch couldn't move enough air to keep them both airborne. The talons clamped tightly around the shoulder it was still hanging onto and she was certain that this was going to be where her arm was going to get clipped off. The pain was incredible. The only way she found the strength to reach and stab the other wing was to picture her last sights of Marcus and Bear, uncertain if they lived or not.

The tear in the second wing put them into a tailspin. The bitch beat at the air but it was no use, they were going down. In a last ditch effort to remain aloft, the creature let her drop to the icy water below. She slammed heavily into the flat water, mineral water shooting into her nose and mouth as she sank. She kicked frantically for the surface, only to have something large land in the water just to her right. The fucking bitch never made it back up in the air and had plummeted into the lake. Jenna kicked furiously to get away from the beast who reached for her, only to see that the vulture woman was sinking in the water. She reached upwards and an animalistic scream reverberated through the icy water as she sank out of sight in the dark lake.

Jenna kicked and swam for the surface, her heavy clothes and boots weighing her down, and just as she thought her lungs were about to explode, she breached the surface. She took a deep and ragged gasp of breath to put out the fire in her lungs, and then she started swimming as fast as she could for the shore, images of Jason Voorhees and his goalie mask reaching for her kicking feet from the depths below. But of course it wasn't really little Jason she was worried about, it was the bitch with the leather wings that was gonna grab her and drag her ass down.

The frigid water fought her every step of the way, reluctant to give up its prize. Her shoulders were killing her, and the water was making her numb, but she had to get to shore. She had to get back to the ledge; back to Marcus and Bear. A hawk's cry from above sent her diving into the icy water for cover, hoping the beasts didn't see her head on the glinting surface of the moonlit lake. She held her breath for as long as she could, and then held it another ten seconds, before she surfaced and scanned the night sky. Two dark shapes on giant bat's wings were flying off in the distance, giving the lake a wide berth.

It suddenly occurred to her that the creatures were afraid of the water. The one trying to make off with her had tried to avoid the lake, and it was only the lack of control when she'd torn the wings that made them fly out over it in the first place.

_The bitch sank like a stone once she hit the water_, she thought as she started swimming again, keeping an eye on the sky and trying to push away the fear of the vulture woman reaching up to grab her ankle.

Finally, she made it to some long grass and cat-tails and she tried her footing. She couldn't touch yet, but that wasn't really a surprise. She swam another few paces and tried again, this time feeling her boots hit the gravely bottom. She staggered gratefully out of the water, collapsing on the shore and dragging her legs out of the frigid lake. She was injured, half drowned, and frozen through, but she was alive.

* * *

Three Weeks Earlier:

They drove to Cape Girardeau, Bobby, Dean and Ruby. Dean had to see Cassie's house for himself because he refused to believe the conniving demon. The crowd gathered outside the still smoking remains of a house in a quiet sub-division, was all Dean needed to put all the horrors into perspective. Lilith had done this to target him. This was Lilith's idea of sending a message. Not the kind of message that shows up on your doorstep with a battered face and a graphic tale. No. This was the kind of message that reached down your throat and yanked your heart out to show you its last beat before you fell dead to the ground.

He was getting this message loud and clear.

And Ruby was right. There was no way that he could run and hide from this. There would be no easy way out. There would only be him facing Lilith, and he would lose in both outcomes of that scenario. Either he died fighting her, and in death, brought about the apocalypse and the end of the human race… or he killed Lilith, and with her, his brother. Because if Lilith was as powerful as Ruby claimed her to be in Sam's body, the demon queen would not give up her new host for anything. And if he did manage by some Hail-Mary miracle to exorcize the bitch outta him, was Sam still in there? He didn't want to believe that Ruby was telling the truth that Sam was gone, but could he even survive the exorcism with a demon as powerful as Lilith riding around in the Sammy-pilot seat? A lot of people didn't survive possession. Or if they did survive, they were scarred for life if they were lucky – the unlucky ones were drooling vegetables staring mindlessly out windows for the rest of their lives.

_Cas, you sonofabitch, I hope you're fucking happy. I'm gonna rip your fucking wings off if I ever see you again._

The Impala slowly drifted past the on-lookers. Dean's jaw was set in a firm line as the scent of smoke invaded the interior of the car. Bobby was shaking his head while Ruby sat in the back seat, arms crossed over her chest and glaring at the wreckage.

Dean pulled over to the side of the road several blocks away. Pulling out his cell phone, and willing his hands not to shake, he scrolled through the list until he found the one he wanted and pressed send. Holding the phone to his ear, he counted three rings before an answering machine picked up and tinny voice came on, _'You've reached Lisa and Ben, we're unable to come to the phone right now but please leave a message after the beep.'_

"Lisa," Dean said with more authority than he felt. "It's Dean… and I need you to call me as soon as you get this." Dean snapped his phone shut and started the car back up.

Pulling back into traffic a moment later, Bobby asked, "So where are we going now?"

"We gotta get to Cicero. Fast."

* * *

It was nearly three hundred miles from Cape Girardeau to Cicero. The normally five hour drive was cut down to four by Dean's disregard for speed limits and Bobby's ability to spot a squad car as it crested a hill, no matter the distance. Dean had tried to call Lisa every half hour, but was always greeted by the answering machine. The second time he got the answering machine, he told her, '_Lisa, Sam's not Sam. If you see him coming, run._' Dean stopped leaving messages and would just snap the phone shut as soon as it picked up. Bobby got on the phone and started calling all his hunting contacts telling them the same thing.

He had too much on his mind to feel much guilt when Bobby called Ellen and Jo. He hadn't told them he was back from the pit, and he waved off the pro-offered phone when he could hear Ellen tearing a strip offa Bobby for not telling her before. She wanted to speak to him and give him a piece of her outspoken mind herself, but he really didn't have it in him to listen to it. Bobby let her go and pinched the bridge of his nose in agitation.

He would curse loudly when he came up behind a slower moving vehicle, twice revving up the dirt shoulder to pass when he couldn't get around them the other way. His urgency propelled them forward. No bathroom stops or coffee breaks, he had to get to Lisa. A burning in the pit of his stomach told him he had to reach Lisa.

He left tire tracks on the asphalt as he whipped into her driveway behind her car. He was jumping out of the Impala, barely taking the time to put her in park, let alone turn off the engine. The front door was slightly ajar, prompting him to remove the nine-millimeter from the small of his back as he kicked the door fully open. Bobby and Ruby were right behind him, weapons drawn and the need for caution thrown out the window.

The scent of blood hung heavily in the air. Dean found her in the living room, bound at the wrists and slumped on the floor. There was a giant bloody handprint on the wall – the same image that had been haunting his non-sleep for days. Dean cradled Lisa's head in his lap while Bobby and Ruby spread out to search the rest of the house.

"I'm sorry Lisa," he moaned. "I'm so sorry." Blood seeped out of what looked like a stab wound to her heart, covering Dean's hands with the viscous liquid.

Bobby came back into the room, shouldering his gun. "The house is empty. There's no one else here."

Dean looked up with tear filled eyes, "But what about Ben?"

"I'm sorry, Son," Bobby's weathered face was pinched. "He's not here."

Ruby came back in then, "The basement's clear." Her gaze went from Dean on the floor to the handprint on the wall. "Fuck," she cursed. "Like she really has to sign her name to this."

"Alright," Bobby took command, "we need to do a quick search for clues and we need to get the hell outta here." Bobby went to a computer desk in the corner while Ruby started opening drawers in the coffee table. Dean was unable to get up. He just crouched there with Lisa's head in his lap, unable to look away from the grayish pallor of her face. The beautiful face that had graced his dreams – dreams of a family of his own and a world where hunting wasn't necessary. Now, instead of the memory of her lovely face smiling and hugging him goodbye, this mask of death and fear would haunt him forever. And what happened to Ben? The little kid that had been so brave in helping out the other kids when the changeling took over their neighborhood. He had been so proud of him, and he would have been so proud to call him his own.

"What's that?" Ruby questioned a moment later, looking intently at Dean and Lisa.

"What?" Dean snapped. Ruby could still easily send him over the brink.

"In her hand!" she snapped back, striding over to the body and wrenching Lisa's dead hand open. The demon snatched it up greedily and Bobby came to stand behind her as she smoothed out the crumpled bit of paper. Bobby's face fell while Ruby's remained impassive.

"What does it say?" Dean asked from the ground. Carefully extricating himself from under Lisa and gently lowering her head onto the floor, he went to stand by the others and see what the note said.

Ruby thrust the note into his hands in response and walked briskly out of the room. Dean read the note through twice before it all sunk in. In Sam's nearly illegible scrawl was…

'_You learn the most interesting things about someone when they're pleading for their life. Like for instance, did you know that Ben is yours? I think you would have told Sam if she confided in you about the truth of Ben's parentage, so she just lied to you to protect Ben from the poison of being a Winchester. Doesn't look like it worked. There's a ball field under the McDonough St. bridge in Joliet, be there by midnight – L.'_

"We need to go!" Dean barked.

"Dean – son," Bobby said softly, "Joliet is hours from here. It's already ten thirty."

Dean glared at him with fierce, red-rimmed eyes. "We need to go. Now."

* * *

A/N: This is an early post as I won't be able to post on my usual Friday evening tomorrow - 'Cuz It's BACK! Since SPN is on Friday nights now, I'll be posting on Saturdays because I'll be too busy being glued to my TV to get the updates up.

It's back on tomorrow! Can't wait!


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Kripke's toys, my sandbox. Thanks for letting me play.

**Chapter 7**

"_Dean – son," Bobby said softly, "Joliet is hours from here. It's already ten thirty."_

_Dean glared at him with fierce, red-rimmed eyes. "We need to go. Now."_

* * *

**Three weeks ago:**

The trio pulled into the parking lot of a dark baseball field a record two hours later. The Impala's tank was dangerously low on fuel and if John Winchester were still around he would rip into Dean about the foolishness of going into a situation where it was very possible that they would need to get away quickly and wouldn't be able to. But Dean couldn't spare the five minutes it would take to pump some gas into the black beauty. He had to save Ben.

He had to save his son.

There was no doubt in his mind as to the validity of that note. Ben was his. He knew it in his heart then and he knew it in his soul now. Lisa fed him that lie that Ben was fathered by another man and he swallowed it because he didn't have any other choice. It explained why he always felt there was an invisible thread running back to Lisa and Ben; his soul knew what his mind refused to accept. And he didn't fault Lisa for lying to him and trying to protect their child from the dangers of the life he led. He had the hell deal hanging over his shoulder, demons and monsters gunning for his ass, and he couldn't have gotten involved with them without dragging them into the mud with him for the short time he had left. And when he came back… he was too broken and too afraid to seek them out. He didn't blame Lisa for denying him his son. The note was right – being a Winchester was poison.

It was twelve thirty when he spun into the ball field's gravel lot, well past the designated time that Lilith had specified. Dean strode purposefully onto the infield, gun gripped firmly at his side. "Lilith!" he called out. "You demon whore! Where are you!" For the first time, he forgot all about who exactly it was that Lilith was wearing.

"She's not here," came a silky voice from next to the dugout. A man stepped out from the shadows and into the pale moonlight and the sickly orange glow from a nearby streetlight.

Dean and Bobby both raised their guns and leveled them on the man's chest. Dean made to take a step forward but Ruby shot her arm out in front of his chest to stop him.

"It's Connor," she hissed, eyes black and looking like she wanted to rip the guy limb from limb.

Connor was not a tall man, with brown hair and an average build. You could walk past him and never look twice unless you got a glimpse of the half-crazed look in his eyes. Bastard was clearly unhinged to say the least.

"Ahh, Ruby," he smiled, "So nice to see you still prefer slumming with lesser beings. How's your face, darlin'?"

She ignored the jibe about the bruises she was sporting, courtesy of him. "Where's Lilith?" she demanded while at the same time Dean said, "Where's Ben?"

"So many questions, neither less important than the other." He took a step closer to them, licking his lips hungrily while he looked at the two hunters and the demon. Dean fought the urge to shoot him right there and then, regardless of the fact that the bullets wouldn't kill him and would only draw the police down on them.

"Where are they, you sonofabitch?" he growled.

"Miss Lilith got tired of waiting for you and left some time ago. She'll contact you later, I'm sure."

"Where's the boy?" Bobby asked, danger lacing his gruff voice.

"Good to see you again too, Mr. Singer," he called jovially. "It's been some time since we last met."

"Maybe I'll kill you this time."

"Quit kidding yourself, Captain Ahab," the demon smirked. "I'm your white whale. Tell me… where are our little friends Jenna and Marcus these days? I'm dying to see them again."

Dean cut off whatever Bobby was about to say next with a, "Where the fuck is Ben!"

"Oh, he's right there," Connor nodded his head towards the dugout he'd been standing next to. A shape darker than the shadows around it was lying on the bench inside.

"Ben!" Dean called out. "Ben, its Dean – answer me!"

"Bennny… Answer your daaadddy," Connor sing-songed.

"Ben!"

"I'm afraid that he won't be answering you," Connor whispered with a smirk on his lips.

"He's still alive," Ruby said as she gripped his wrist to stop him from bulldozing the demon in front of him.

_Fuck, let the bitch be_ _right_, he prayed.

"For now…" Connor smirked and his eyes went inky black for a moment.

"What did you do to him?"

"Lilith told me to have fun with him. A gift, as it were, for joining up with her." Connor glared at Ruby. "You know how I have a soft spot for kids." Ruby's lip curled up in a snarl and Connor grinned maliciously at her. "Just think of what she would have given you if you'd said yes."

"Fuck you," Ruby growled.

"She might have even let you keep company with your former lover's fabulous body. It would have had Lilith at the helm, but consider that an added bonus and an honor in it's own right."

"You wouldn't know honor if it kicked you in the sack."

"Always such a pleasure to talk to. Tell me Ruby, do your fellows know you were once a member of Lilith's harem?"

"I was never part of yours," she spat. "I bet that was a shot to your ego."

The demon turned his deranged gaze on Dean. "It was her price to get off the rack. She got off easy considering what you had to do, huh, Sport? All those screaming souls begging for mercy from Alistair's star pupil?"

"Shut up, Connor," Bobby growled, thumbing back the safety on his Sig Sauer. Consecrated iron rounds. They wouldn't kill the SOB, but they would hurt.

"Maybe we'll pull Benny downstairs and teach him his daddy's trade."

"I'll kill you!" Dean lunged forward, drawing Ruby's knife from his belt as he did so, swinging wildly at the demon who danced out of the way. Bobby and Ruby jumped into the fray, but Bobby couldn't shoot and risk hitting Dean.

Dean lashed out with the blade, but was thrown back by invisible hands. Bobby's Sig let out a muted hiss from the silenced bullet, striking the demon in the chest. Connor winced and bent at the waist as the bullet tore through his host's body.

Ruby took advantage of his injured state and jumped on the bastard, swinging like a major leaguer and screaming "Where's your cronies now, huh?" She got another slug to the jaw in before she went flying, skidding her way up the first base line. Bobby raised his Sig again now that Ruby was outta the way, but Bobby went soaring too, landing heavily next to Dean.

"It's been fun and I'd love to finish you all, but I have orders. Toodles." Connor wiggled his fingers at them and turned to walk away, but Dean threw the knife at him with all his strength. Throwing a knife isn't easy to start with; from the ground it's near impossible. His aim off, he managed to sink the blade into Connor's tricep. The demon let out a guttural howl of pain, before vanishing on the spot, taking Ruby's knife along with him.

"You stupid sonofabitch!" Ruby screamed at him, "You just lost the knife!" But Dean ignored her. He was scampering to his feet and he could only see the darkened dugout. Sprinting through the loose dirt as he raced his way to the wood and concrete structure, he was completely unable to take his eyes off the too still form. Ruby's '_he's still alive_' and Connor's '_for now_' running rampant through is skull as he skidded into the dugout and dropped to his knees next to his son.

"Ben! Ben! Talk to me!" he begged, gently shaking the kid's chest. He didn't think he was breathing. Ruby and Bobby came tearing into the dugout, their forms blocking out the meager light from the streetlights. Ruby dropped to the dirt next to him, frantically running her hands over Ben's body, holding back his eye lids, pressing her fingers into his throat for a pulse-check and finally prying his mouth open and smelling his mouth.

"Fuck!" she cursed.

"What is it?" he demanded.

"It's bad, that's what. Help me carry him out to the light. Bobby, go to the car and get the bag of road salt out of the trunk." Nobody thought twice about disobeying the demon. Bobby ran off towards the parking lot, and he scooped his son up into his arms and carried him out of the dugout.

Laying him out gently under the orange glow of the streetlight, Ruby pulled the boy's shirt off over his head and pressed her ear to the spot above his heart. "We might still make it," she told him. "Bobby! Move your wrinkled ass!"

Bobby ran up, the bag of salt in his hands and huffing raggedly from the run. "What now?" he asked, ignoring her insults as it was clear she was worried about the boy.

"Make a ring around us and get the hell back."

"You want me to _trap_ you in a salt ring?"

"Just do it!"

While Bobby was pouring out the salt in a wide ring around them, Ruby turned her deadly serious gaze on him and looked him square in the eyes. "Is this your son?"

"Yes," he breathed.

"You are _**certain**_ that this is your son?"

"Yes." He was certain. He could feel it all the way down to his tattered soul.

"Okay." She reached over and grabbed his hand, and before he could even cringe at the feel of her holding his hand, she drew a small knife from her pocket and sliced his palm.

"What…?" but she grabbed Ben's hand and was about to pull the blade over his palm too. "Stop! What are you doing?"

"Trying to save his life! Fucking trust me!" she nearly shrieked, dragging the knife over the boy's palm and blood started to well up. It looked black in the orange light.

Ruby reached over and grabbed his cut hand, mashing it palm to palm with Ben's. Folding their fingers over each other, she warned, "Don't let go. No matter what."

He nodded. Someone could hack his arm off at the elbow, and he wouldn't let go.

Ruby clasped her hands over theirs and started chanting rapidly in Latin. He tried to focus on what she was saying, rather than the cool feeling of the hand in his, or the non-perceptible chest movements of his son's non-breathing – but Latin had never been his strong suit and he understood nothing. She spoke faster and faster, gripping their hands in a crushing vice, but nothing happened. Bobby was pacing the outside of the ring, watching Ruby with narrowed eyes, but he only shook his head when Dean made eye contact with him. Whatever Ruby was saying didn't have the elder hunter charging at her, so her spell must not have been on the dark side of the moon.

"Dammit!" she swore, letting go of their hands and grabbing a hunk of her hair. She used her knife to hack it off, threading the lock of hair around his and Ben's entwined fingers. She gripped their hands in hers again.

"What are you doing?" He didn't like her hair being wrapped around his and Ben's hands while she spoke mumbo-jumbo over them.

"Dean, for once in your life – trust me!" she hissed, holding tight to their clasped hands. "And don't let go."

She started chanting again. It sounded like the same thing she was saying earlier, but he couldn't be sure. Latin sounded like snakes on speed to him with all the '_s_' sounds.

After a moment, he could feel a heat creeping into his palm. "I think something's happening," he whispered. Ruby nodded, but kept chanting her spell. Repeating the verses over and over, the warmth spread and gained strength. A few more verses and the heat had grown to a small fire in their palms and he understood what she meant by '_don't let go_' as it felt as if he had his hand on top of a hot stove.

Faster and faster she spoke. The heat grew and grew. A small tendril of smoke started to waft up from the dark locks around his fingers, and the smell of burning hair assaulted his nose. He couldn't have let go even if he wanted to with the death grip Ruby had their hands in. More smoke started drifting up from the hair and a wind started to blow around them that smelled strongly of sulfur. Ruby's hair started whipping around her face as she chanted, her eyes were coal black and their hands were burning from the heat.

Ruby started panting as she spoke, every breath sounded like it caused her immeasurable pain. The wind picked up more, her hair flying in a frenzy and she started screaming, "I take it! I take it!"

Simultaneously, the lock of hair burst into flame, Ruby's head snapped back so she was looking skyward, and a long howl erupted from her mouth while her back arched painfully. Still she held onto to their hands even though Dean felt his skin blistering where the lock of burning hair touched.

"I TAKE IT!" she screamed to the sky.

She jolted like she'd been hit with a taser and the demon slumped to the ground, out cold. Her hands fell away from his and Ben's, and the instant her hands left theirs, the fire went out, the heat dissipated, and Ben drew a deep, ragged breath.

"Ben!" he let go of his hand and moved to cradle the kid's head in his lap. Bobby stormed the circle, looking at the boy who was still unconscious, but mercifully breathing, and he dropped to a knee next to the little brunette and gripped her chin in his beefy hand, turning her face to his.

Her eyes flickered open just once, and she whispered, "_Retispatha…_" before passing out again.

"Bobby, what the fuck just happened?" he asked, still amazed that Ben was freaking breathing. It was music to his ears.

"She couldn't get the spell outta the boy, so she took the curse onto herself instead."

"Will she live?" he didn't know if he wanted her to or not. She'd caused them nothing but trouble since the day she waltzed into their lives, feeding them lies and doing everything she could to make Sam turn bad… But she just saved his son. The mixed feelings were trapped under the giant ball of emotion lodged in his throat that his son was alive because a demon saved him.

"We should get outta here," Bobby said gruffly. Dean stood and gathered Ben up into his arms. He placed the boy into Bobby's outstretched arms, and while Bobby headed off to put Ben into the Impala, Dean stooped and lugged Ruby's body to her feet. Throwing her over his shoulder in a fireman's carry, he started walking towards the car, wondering if he was doing the right thing in bringing her with them. It was just that… after all the bullshit… it didn't feel right to leave her behind.

* * *

As the spell started to course through her, and her veins turned to fire, and her head felt like it was about to explode, she couldn't help but think of the boy. Not the one on the ground in front of her… but another boy she hadn't been able to save from Connor. That little boy looked similar to the one at her knees now, but that little boy had been much younger. That little boy had his father's dark curly hair and dimples… and her brown eyes.

_Iain…_ A whispered name that was both prayer and penance.

Connor stole her son from her, but he would not have this child. Not if she had anything to say about it.

* * *

"What was that thing she said back there? '_Readipasta'_?" They were driving down the dark road, ten minutes out from the ball field. Bobby was in the passenger seat, and Ben was lodged in the space between them, Dean's arm protectively around his shoulders as he slept off whatever was in him before the demon sucked it outta him and into herself. He wished the kid would wake up, but just the fact he was breathing was a miracle in its own right. A demon miracle. He glanced into the rearview mirror and saw her still form slumped across the backseat. Again he wondered at the logic of why he just didn't leave here there. He didn't have a real answer.

"Retispatha." Bobby corrected. "It's a very rare plant from Borneo. The flowers are supposed to have healing powers."

"So where do we get some?"

"Well, they're rare. And as expensive and hard to get as water on the moon. The only place I know we're guaranteed to find some would be Missouri."

"Who do you know in Missouri that can score us some?"

"Not the state. Missouri Mosley."

"Oh." He didn't want to go to Missouri's. He avoided Lawrence like the plague, and he really didn't want to drag that sweet woman into his mess. If Lilith was going after the people he knew, sooner or later, she might come knocking on Missouri's door.

"What makes you think she's got any of these flowers?" he asked, seeing a late night gas station up ahead and slowing to make the turn.

"She asked me some time ago to contact Rufus for her. He had a dealer that he used to go to who could find just about anything. She knew that Rufus and I still spoke somewhat, and she asked me to see if he could get any."

"Why didn't she call him herself?" _Besides ole Rufus being as cuddly as a porcupine wrapped in a coil of razor wire?_

Bobby shook his head. "She doesn't talk to Rufus much since they split up."

"Whoa! Rufus and Missouri?"

_Eww_. He pulled into the Shell station and idled up to a pump.

"For a couple years, a long ways back." Bobby opened the door to go pump the gas. He could probably sense that Dean was hesitant to step away from Ben. He kid's body heat was coming back to him, and he was getting an awful lot of comfort from that. "The hunting community is pretty small when you think about it. Your daddy kept you away from the other hunters, but after a time in this world, you learn the all the familiar names and faces. Most of us get on better with others like us, makes so that you don't have to hide."

"Like how Sam hid everything from Jessica."

"Right. If Sam had still been huntin while he was with that girl, he woulda had some explainin to do with all the bruises and bang-ups."

"So what happened between Missouri and Rufus? Did she find out he wasn't a people person?"

Bobby snorted. "The way I heard it," he spoke to him through the open window as he fed the nozzle into the tank, "was that she wanted to have kids, and Rufus didn't."

_Imagine what those Sunday family dinners woulda been like. Missouri reading your mind while you held hands and said grace, and Rufus scowling while he cleaned his gun over the mashed potatoes_.

"Did she ever have any?" he poked his head out the window to talk to his adopted uncle. He didn't think the no-nonsense medium had kids, but what the hell did he know? He didn't know he had a kid until a few hours ago.

"No. She never found anyone to settle with after that, and then I guess she got too old and that window closed on her." Bobby replaced the hose and swiped a credit card across the face of the pump. Dean had stopped using his cards as Sam knew all the names on his. Bobby on the other hand, was a puzzle wrapped up in an enigma wrapped up in a hard taco shell. There was no way either of them knew all the aces up that man's greasy sleeves.

"So you're pretty sure she's got some of this… whatever flower?"

Bobby wrenched open the door and dropped back into the passenger seat. "Almost certain. I'll call her in a minute and ask to make certain. Don't wanna waste time driving to Lawrence if she used it all up on something else already." Bobby cast a glance at the demon in the back seat. "Are you certain about her? I mean – you could have left her in that salt circle."

"She would've been a sitting duck for any demon that came looking for her," he said as he pulled out of the station and back onto the road. He couldn't meet Bobby's eyes and instead flicked his gaze to the rearview mirror where Ruby's prone body was center stage. He felt the steady rise and fall of Ben's chest tucked into his side and he told the elder hunter the truth. "I couldn't do it Bobby. I thought about it for like, a second – but I couldn't do it. I couldn't leave her there trapped and helpless and unconscious after she just saved Ben."

Bobby didn't appear to be judging him. After all, he had once trusted the demon on a joint effort, and between the two of them, they fixed the Colt. He pulled out his cell instead and called Missouri. Dean winced at the late hour, but there was little to be done. They were hours out from Lawrence, and he didn't want to waste a drive out there if the old lady didn't have the goods.

"Missouri? Bobby Singer. Yeah… sorry about the late hour… Yes, I'm aware how late it is in Lawrence… I'm sorry I got you outta bed, but we need some help… Me and Dean Winchester… We're wonderin if you got any of that retispatha flower left… You do? We need it. Bad… A little boy got cursed by a demon… Yeah, mean SOB... Can we have it?... We're on our way… A couple of hours? Look for us near six with the way Dean's driving with his lead shoes on." Bobby hung up and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You didn't tell her about our drunken prom date back there," he gestured to the back seat with a nod of his head.

"I'm betting the whole pot on her pity for the boy, that she won't slam the door in our faces when we show up on her step carrying a demon."

"She won't be happy." _He_ wouldn't be happy. He didn't want to think of what Missouri would do when faced with an unconscious demon laid out on her sofa.

"Knowing Missouri's mojo, she'll sense Ruby before we even hit her street."

"She can do that?" He took the ramp up onto the highway and dropped the gas peddle. The Impala roared with satisfaction and surged forward, settling into a throaty purr that was as comforting and reassuring as the soft breathing sounds of his son.

"Yeah, she's got fugly-radar. She can smell 'em coming a mile away."

"Does she own any firearms?" The last thing he needed right now was someone pointing a gun in his face, telling him to get off their porch.

"'Course she does. Let's pray that she doesn't pull 'em. Rufus was a crack shot in his younger days and you can bet he taught Missouri her way around a gun."

Wanting to get off that subject, he asked Bobby something that was nagging at the back of his mind. "What was she saying in that spell of hers?"

"Oh, that. It was, '_Blood of my blood, bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh – let no evil mark you while I breathe_.' Then when that didn't work, she started saying, '_Blood of my blood, bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh – let the dark within you find sanctuary in this willing host_.'"

"She actually said that? That's what the '_I take it_' bit was about?"

"It worked. She pulled that curse right outta the boy and into herself."

"Holy shit."

"You might not have noticed what was happening outside that circle cuz you were too busy, but the lights up and down the street were flickering in and out and there was a flash of lightning 'cross the sky."

"And there was that freaky wind too." He hadn't noticed all the other stuff Bobby noted, and he wondered how much attention Ruby's light show might've drawn onto them.

"What wind?"

"The wind that smelled like sulfur." _Duh_.

"There was no wind, kid. I saw her hair flyin', but there was no wind."

"Huh. Some really freaky shit then." Outside the salt circle was another world than inside it had been. He wondered if they had somehow passed between worlds during the spell – a state of Limbo as it were. Trying to figure it out was hard on his head when all he really wanted to do was sit in a quiet corner with Ben until he woke up.

Bobby settled back into his seat then, letting out a tired huff. "If you don't mind, I'll get some shut-eye 'fore we reach Kansas."

"Naw, go ahead. I'm pretty wired."

Bobby pulled his hat down over his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. Within a few minutes, he could hear the soft, even breathing of a man asleep. That left Dean as the only awake person in the car. He adjusted his arm around Ben's shoulders a little more, pulling the kid tight against his side and relishing in the rise and fall of his chest.

_Breathing. Fucking __**breathing**_.

He'd had his run with magic and spells and incantations before. He never liked them. He didn't trust them, and usually didn't trust the people behind the spells either. But if whatever Ruby did gave Ben his life back, then maybe witchcraft wasn't so bad after all. He cast a quick glance in the rearview at the demon. She looked _innocent_ back there – a far cry from the black pool of manipulating-conniving-blood-pimping-evil that she was. But she saved his son. She saved a boy she didn't know and put herself at risk to do it.

He didn't know if she would wake up when they gave her the magic flowers, but he felt like he owed it to her to try and save her life.

* * *

It was six-thirty when they started to roll up Missouri's street. Bobby had woken up a half hour before but Ben and Ruby were still both out of it.

"Crap," Bobby cursed, nodding his head towards a familiar house. There was a plump black woman standing on her porch, arms folded across her chest and the glare she was sending their car shoulda been enough to crack the windshield.

Dean slowed and pulled into the driveway, turned the key and the sudden silence was deafening. Bobby kicked his door open, saying, "Might as well get this over with. Best not to keep the executioner waiting."

Dean got out, ignored Missouri's scowl as he pulled Ben from the car and placed him into Bobby's arms. He went to the back, gathered Ruby up and slung her over his shoulder again. Turning, both hunters met the wrath of the short medium head on. She had stormed down the front steps and now glared reproachfully at them from three feet away.

"Dean Winchester," she spoke with the air of a pissed off grade school teacher. "Do you mind telling me why you've brought _**that**_ to my house?"


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Kripke's toys, my sandbox. Thanks for letting me play.

A/N: This was originally supposed to be a companion piece to this story titled 'Ruby Tuesday', but I decided to add it into the fic by changing a few things to streamline it into this story. This is a taste of the '_history_' between Ruby and Connor, as was mentioned earlier in the fic. Also, this is to warn you that this is probably the darkest, most violent thing I've ever posted. The characters, in accordance with the timeline, are lawless and brutal. Hopefully, this sheds some light on a few issues regarding Ruby and her motives.

**Chapter 8:**

She had told Dean Winchester months before that she had been alive during the plague. She had actually died in London in the year 1346. But it wasn't the Black Death that took her; she was burned at the stake for witchcraft. The fire of her pyre was a warm bath compared to what waited for her down below.

She had lived in a small outpost near what is now called Mullaghangh in Ireland. Her father, Padraic, had been chieftain of that small village, and had married a beautiful red-haired woman named Ruby. He had named her the same on the day of her birth. Not to commemorate her mother who died in childbirth, but so that he would never forget what his daughter had cost him – his most precious jewel. Perhaps if she had been born a boy, she would have earned some favor with the man; been forgiven for killing what he cherished most. But he would not forgive that heinous act by being presented with a lowly girl. She had learned quickly that life was easier if she kept out of her father's sight. A servant had once told her in an effort at kindness, that she looked too much like her mother, and it was painful to her father and that was why he avoided her. That might have been part of it, but she was willing to bet that there was more to it than that.

Padraic was an unkind man to most, and women in particularly, but he was able to remarry several times for the fact that he was wealthy, and a little money was worth frequent beatings to some women. None of the replacement wives brought him any comfort, and none conceived a child by him. She often thought that perhaps her mother had gotten with child by another man, but she didn't dare voice her thoughts to another soul for fear that it got back to her father. He might have had more luck in marrying a woman who had been widowed and reared children already, but he would have only virgin brides in his bed, and as a result, the wives got closer and closer to her own age.

It was over dinner one night with the new bride whom she refused to call 'mother' as she was seventeen – the same as her – that her father announced that Finbar O'Connor had made an offer for her hand.

"Ye'll be wed during the Spring Feast," he had spoken around a mouthful of greasy pork.

"To Finbar?" She was appalled by the idea. Finbar was a pig, a drunk and a bully from a neighboring village. He was the arrogant son of a man on equal standing as her father, and it was clear that the idea of an alliance through marriage between the two families was the driving force between the arrangement. She looked across the table and at the red mark across the check of her father's new wife. Her father was a man who believed in beating women into submission, that fear bred a good wife. Finbar was a man cut from the same cloth, if the gossip among servants and whores was to be believed.

"The Spring feast is only a week away," she said cautiously, not wanting to anger him when he was already in a foul mood. "That does not give me much time to prepare."

"And what do ye need to prepare, lass? Ye stand in front of the priest, repeat what he says, and do what your husband says that night so that you bear his child." It was the sort of heartless answer she was expecting. "Any fool can do that, including you." He cast a sour glance at his young wife with that statement.

"But, Father, I…"

"There is no discussion needed, lass. It is set. Ye'll marry Finbar at the Feast festival."

"No." It slipped out of her mouth and for a moment, she thought she imagined saying it out loud. The clattering of the new wife's knife striking the edge of her plate was testament to the fallacy of that thought.

"No?" her father's eyebrow quirked up. A dangerous shadow passed over his face as he pushed himself away from the table. He stood, his dark hair stirred in the draft from the fireplace. "And what do ye mean by no?"

She stood herself, ready for the coming impact if he rounded the table. But it was too late to turn back. Fear of her father was one thing, but she would not live in fear of her husband too. "I won't marry him. He's a foul beast and I'll not have him."

"Ye'll do what ye be told. I am your father, and ye'll do what I tell ye."

"I won't marry him, Father. I have the right to refuse a husband."

"And who would ye marry, lass? The stable boy ye've been making calf eyes at since ye were old enough to bleed? No daughter of mine will marry a farthingless groom. I'd sooner kill ye m'self than see you married to filth like that."

"So you'd see me married to that swine Finbar because he's got gold?"

"If God cursed me with a daughter instead of a son, and took my beloved wife from me in the bargain, ye'll bet that I'll get something out of the bargain by selling you off properly."

"Bought and sold like a common whore? With the license of marriage to make it seem proper?"

"Put any spin on it ye wish to, lass. You're mine to do with as I please. And if it pleases Finbar's father to pay a handsome price for his son to enjoy your marriage bed, then so be it."

"You can't force me. No priest will sanctify it if I refuse at the Alter."

"You refuse him, and ye'll ne'er see the light of day again." He advanced a step towards her, fist clenched tight to his side.

"I'll join the convent. You can't touch me there." She dared not take her eyes off her father's form. There was no hope of help coming from one of the servants, and even less hope of the quivering wretch at the table trying to stop her husband.

"Ye'll ne'er last in a convent. They'll ne'er keep ye."

"I'll never marry him. I'll die first." She turned on her heel and ran for her chamber. The sound of heavy boots on the flags behind her made her hitch up her skirts and run for her life.

Slamming the door shut behind her and bracing her body against the wood, she heard the bolt slide home from the other side. Father had locked her in.

"And ye'll stay there until the feast!" he bellowed as he thumped a fist against the thick wood.

_Yes, wouldn't want to damage Finbar's purchase before he has a chance to do it himself_, she thought while crossing her arms over her chest. It was cold and dark in her room, the fire hadn't been laid yet and she crossed the room to light one before she froze to death. Although, the fire in her veins at the moment seemed like they would keep her warm through to next winter.

She sat on the edge of her bed and hugged herself, willing herself not to succumb to the desperation that was encroaching on her mind. She would not marry that man. Not on her life. There were rumors aplenty about the sort of things Finbar and his family were involved it. They were members of a secret sect in the druid order. Although they quoted the holy book as much as any priest, they also met in the woods wearing ceremonial robes and partook in pagan rituals. It was said that the rituals were the source of their fortune and power because the family didn't have much before Finbar's grandfather became involved with this private sect, and then their status soared.

She started pacing around the chamber, trying to think of what she could do to get out of the predicament. And she couldn't help herself when her thought drifted to Liam, the stable boy her father had mentioned. She had been taken by surprise when he mentioned him; she didn't think he paid that much attention to her. But he had noticed the forlorn looks that crossed her face every time she saw Liam. Forlorn not because she thought he didn't return the feelings she had for him, forlorn because there was nothing they could do about how they felt. Liam was a man of pride, and he would not marry while he was a poor groom. And there were no families that would allow their daughters to marry him for that reason. Orphaned at eight, Liam had been taken in as a groom into her father's stables in a rare act of charity. Not so much charity as cheap labor by the way she saw it, but the lad had few options and no one to take him in.

No woman would have him out of pride, and she loved him and he wouldn't have her because of his pride.

But she was not about to be sold off to Finbar Connor-Son without a fight. The nearest convent was two day's ride from here. If she left now, she'd have all night to get a head start before anyone noticed she was even gone.

She went to her jewelry box and emptied it into a small oiled pouch. The jewels were her mother's and grandmother's. Father had given them to her when she turned twelve merely to flaunt their station, not for any adoration he felt for her. She only wore them when she had to so as not to damage them – father would go mad with rage if she did. She grabbed a second dress from her wardrobe, a simple one that wouldn't attract attention, and rolled it up in a spare blanket. Tucking the pouch of jewelry into the pocket of her gown and tying her cloak around her shoulders, she crept to the window. Looking cautiously for any guard or passing servant, she opened the window and climbed out.

She kept to the shadows, cautiously making her way to the stables. She would get her mare, Penny, saddle her and head out over the fields until morning rather than be spotted on the road so close to home. The last thing she needed was someone reporting to her father of her escape and telling him what direction she was headed.

Quickly darting her way into the stable, the warm, homey scent of horses greeted her. She couldn't smell the mixture of hay and horse without thinking of Liam and what leaving him behind would do to her. She would spend the next twenty years of her life praying for Liam to have the life he deserved.

"Mistress Ruby, what are ye doing here?" a soft voice came from the dark.

She whirled around, startled to be found here, but not startled by who found her. "Liam! What are you doing in the stables at this hour?"

"I think I asked ye the same thing, Mistress," he said shyly. A spark from a flint, and the lantern hanging from a post flared to life. The sudden glow cast his dark hair and weather-darkened skin into deeper shadow.

"I… I was…" she stammered, caught off guard by his presence. Liam was a large lad of nearly twenty. Tall and broad shouldered, he was as gentle as a lamb – probably why he was so good with the horses.

"Ye should go back inside, Mistress. 'Tis cold out tonight."

"Why are you out here?" she demanded, trying to turn the situation away from her and her late hour desire to visit the stables.

"One of horses took a bad fall earlier. I was staying close by incase she needed me." It sounded like a poor excuse to her so she decided to call him on it. If she could get him out of here, she could slip away.

"More like Morag the kitchen-girl had been pestering you again." Proper women wouldn't marry him, but that didn't stop some of the looser ones from pursuing him for sport.

Liam blushed and turned away. "She doesn't like it out here in the barn. She's nervous of the horses."

"So you are hiding from her."

"Why are ye out 'ere?" he asked softly, skirting away from her accusations. "Your father will not be pleased."

"At the moment I don't care what my father is pleased by." Liam cocked an eyebrow at her so she elaborated. "He wants me to marry Finbar."

"O'Connor?" he grimaced in distaste. "From Cabragh?" Finbar had a reputation that surpassed village boundaries. "I take it ye said no?"

"I said no," she agreed, settling herself on a bale of hay. A gelding named Toragh on the other side of the stall stuck his head over the boards and nuzzled her ear, snuffling at her hair and looking for a treat. She absently patted the velvet nose, not having an apple or carrot to offer him.

"I'll assume that your father was a might upset with your answer?"

"You could say that."

"Is that why you're out here sneaking around in the dark looking to take your horse?"

She was struck momentarily speechless by his accuracy. "I can't marry that man, Liam. I'll be nothing but a breeding sow to him. A breeding sow and a target."

"Aye, I expect so," he whispered, looking sadly at his feet.

"You can help me get away," she pleaded, standing up and coming closer to the man she desired. She placed a hand on his arm and felt the strong muscle beneath the fabric of his shirt.

"And what do you think ye can do? Where will ye go?"

"I'll join the convent in Dublin. I'll be safe there."

"Dublin?" he asked incredulously. "And how in the name of the good Lord do you think you'll make it all the way to Dublin on your own? A pretty lass all on her own on the open road? They'll find your dead body in a ditch before you even reach Drogheda."

"That might be preferable to marrying that swine Finbar."

Liam grabbed her by her shoulders and shook her. "Mistress Ruby, do ye know what a villain will do to ye if he finds ye? Slitting your throat will be the kindest thing he'd do."

"I'm not a fool, Liam. I know there are risks."

"No, you're not a fool, but ye be a headstrong woman and right now that's just as bad."

"Please Liam," she pleaded, taking his hand and holding it to her cheek. "I can't stay here."

"I can't let you go, Lass."

"Then come with me."

"What?" he gasped. "Are ye daft woman? I can't leave with you."

"Can't or won't?"

"What bloody difference does it make?"

"Come with me Liam. We can leave here – together. I've seen the way you look at me. I feel the same for you." She pressed a kiss to the palm of his hand. "Leave here with me."

"Your father will kill us both."

"Only if he catches us."

"And how far do ye think we can run? How will we survive? I've not two coppers to rub together."

She pulled the pouch out of her pocket and put it in his hand, letting him hear the jingle of the precious metals and the weight of the jewels. Just one of the gold chains was worth more than Liam would ever see in his lifetime. "I think we'll get far enough away that they won't find us."

"Mistress Ruby – I am a poor man. I have no station. I have nothing to offer you."

"You could give me your heart. I'd be content with that." She boldly reached up and touched her fingers to the line of stubble on his jaw.

"You risk everything for a foolish desire," he scowled, but he did not move away from her touch.

"It's foolish to not want to be bought and sold like a prize pig? It's foolish to want a husband that would love me and not abuse me? Tell me, Liam. You could have left here years ago. Why did you stay? There's nothing for you here – you could have left. Why did you stay?" He tried to pull away then. He turned his head and started walking for the door, but she grabbed his wrist and planted herself in his way. "Why did you stay?" she demanded, palms lodged against his chest to keep him from pushing past her.

"I stayed for you!" he hissed. "I couldn't bear the thought of leaving and not seeing you again and so I stayed. Even though I could never have you, I stayed. For you."

"But you _can_ have me. I offer myself to you if you'll have me. All you have to do is leave with me and we can be free of all this." Tears burned at the corners of her eyes at the stupidity of status and rank determining who one could be with.

"You'd give up your fine home and fine clothes to live a poor life with me?"

"I would give it up gladly if it meant I had you by my side."

He took a deep breath to steady himself. Taking her hand in his he met her eyes and whispered, "Where would we go?"

Triumphant joy coursed through her. "We could go to London, or travel to Paris or Madrid. It's a big world out there, Liam. There is nowhere we can't hide."

"Ye'd be my wife?" He placed a rough hand on her cheek and she leaned into the warm strength of it.

"I would be your wife. I would bear your children. And I would love you until the day I die." It was the most earnest vow she'd ever made anyone.

Liam nodded. He crossed to Penny's stall and took her saddle down off the wall and fixed it across her back. Pulling the straps tight across her girth, he straightened and walked to the gelding's stall. He quickly saddled him as well.

"Wait here a moment. I'll be right back." He made to move past her but she grabbed for his arm. She stood on her toes and reached for the back of his neck, pulled his head down and kissed him full on the mouth. His large hands found her waist and held her tight to him as he kissed her back. She felt lightheaded and stumbled a step when he let her go. It was her first kiss, and the experience was a lifting one.

"I'll be waiting here for you. Hurry back," she whispered, touching her fingers to his moist lips. Liam nodded and ducked out the door, shutting it softly behind him.

It dawned on her a minute later that Liam might have gone to alert her father of her intentions to run away. Fear spiked through her and she hastened to slip the bit into Penny's mouth and fit the bridle over the horse's ears. The door creaked and she crouched slightly to hide behind her horse.

"Mistress?" the large shape called softly.

She stood from her hiding place. It was Liam, and he was alone. "I'm here." She felt shame wash over her. Liam was not the sort for subterfuge and for a moment she thought him capable of turning her in.

"Quickly, we must go. The skies are clouding and the dark will aid our escape." He grabbed the gelding's harness and expertly slipped in over the horse's head. Grabbing the reins, he led his horse out of the stall and waited with her near the door. She led Penny towards him, stopping beside the man she'd loved since she was a child, and she drew a heavy breath. She had never been so afraid in all her life. If they were caught…

"Liam, I…"

"Don't say anything, Lass," he whispered. She felt his hand brush hers but when she went to clasp it, she felt something cold and hard. Looking down, she saw him pressing a large dagger into her palm. "Take it. Keep it hidden. And don't be afraid to use it if ye have to."

"What are you saying?" she asked as hefted the dagger.

"If they see us and give chase… I want ye to ride hell for leather for your convent in Dublin. I'll hold them off for as long as I can." It was then that she saw the short-sword hanging from his waist. "I'll not let them drag ye back and marry ye off to that monster."

Fear shot down her spine. She had not really thought about the consequences of being caught on the run with Liam. On her own, they would have locked her down and forced her to wed Finbar. Gone with Liam, if they suspected she was no longer a maiden, they'd likely kill her as her worth as a virgin bride would be out the window. She felt the heavy weight of the dagger in her hand. She'd be more likely to turn it on herself than another person, and if they caught and killed Liam, she'd prefer death at her own hands to the beating and hanging she'd receive from her own father.

She shuddered. "You don't have to do this Liam. You can stay here and be safe. I'll give you some of the jewels in my pocket, and you can move away and sell them far off. You'll have money and a clean slate, and you'll be able to marry a woman of your choosing and be safe."

"The woman of my choosing is standing next to me. And I will never abandon ye to the wolves." He seemed to stand straighter, a tense line to his broad shoulders. "Are ye ready, Lass?"

She stood straighter too. If Liam could be brave and selfless, so could she. If they were caught, Liam would not die fighting alone. "I am."

"Then let's go." He doused the lantern, and she could just make out his shape, darker than the shadows around it as he moved to the door. A crack of grey light broke in one wall as the door opened and Liam stuck his head out. Looking all around, he moved through the door, leading the horse behind him. She and Penny followed.

They skirted around the edge of the stables, trying their best to keep to the shadows. He had been right that the cloud cover would aid them in their escape. But as much as the dark masked their movements, it also masked the whereabouts of others out in the night.

Liam had rounded the corner of the smithy when they heard, "Hold!" Liam froze, and she shrank back into the shadows with Penny. "Liam! Is that you man?" Her heart was beating so loud she thought the sentry must hear it.

Liam turned slowly towards the voice. "Aye, Corbin. 'Tis."

"What the devil ye doin out 'ere? Fancy a midnight ride do ye?" Corbin jested. "I take it ye heard 'o the big news of Mistress Ruby marrying that bastard O'Connor?"

"Aye, I heard about that."

Corbin nudged his friend and grinned. "Is that why you're out looking for consolation, my friend?"

Penny shifted, and her bridle creaked. The soft sound was deafening in the dark. "What was that?"

"Corbin!" Liam grabbed hold of his friend's arm, but it was too late. Corbin rounded the side of the smithy and locked eyes with her frightened ones.

"Oh… I see," he whispered, understanding dawning on him, for what other reason would the two of them be doing out in the dark with horses on the day her marriage had been announced.

"Ye ne'er saw us, did ye my friend?" Liam begged.

Corbin turned back to meet her frightened and pleading eyes. "No. No – I ne'er saw ye."

"Thank you," she whispered, a tear leaking out of the corner of her eye with the gratitude she felt for this man.

"Go. Steer clear of the tannery – Calhoun is posted there and he's not so likely to let ye pass."

Liam gripped the guard's forearm. "Thank ye, Corbin."

"Go now. And Godspeed." They started to pass him when he grabbed Penny's reins and leaned in close to her. "Ye be too fine a lass to waste on that animal, O'Connor. Treat him well, aye?"

"I will," she promised, and they were off, swallowed up by the darkness.

* * *

They married in Dublin two days later. They found a poor, decrepit church with a priest as run down as the church he prayed in. She figured this would be the last place her father would come asking about her and would buy them some more time to escape. The constant drizzle aided them in that they kept their cloaks up over their heads the entire time they were in Dublin, further hiding them as her red hair was not visible. They were just two faceless figures in a large town. She had offered herself to Liam while on the road, but he had refused her, saying that if he could wait until they were properly married, so could she. She loved him a little more for that.

When it came time to bless the ring, she fumbled in her pocket for one of her mother's, when Liam pulled a small silver ring out of his pocket and presented it to the priest. It was then slid onto her finger, he kissed her chastely, and they were wed.

She looked at the silver ring. It was a fine, thin band, etched with the Celtic triangles that one saw everywhere. "It's beautiful," she breathed. "Where did you get it?"

"It was my mother's," he said, holding her hand and looking at the dim light that reflected off it. "'Tis not as fine as the ones in yon wee pouch, but ye'll wear it?"

"I'll never take it off," she swore, stretching up on her tip-toes to kiss his lips. "Come. Let's find an Inn for the night and we'll be off at dawn."

"Paris," he mused as they walked out of the church and into the drizzle. "Ye know, I've ne'er been on a boat."

* * *

**Five Years Later:**

"Come, Iain," she admonished the boy. "We're to meet your father before we head home from market." The dark haired boy grinned and ran after her. He promised to be the image of his father with his dark hair and dimples. It was too soon to tell, but he looked as if he'd have his father's size as well.

Iain had been a treacherous pregnancy. It was a miracle that they were even alive. She had lost the first bairn three months into her carrying, and Iain was born a year after that. They had named him for Liam's brother that had died of illness alongside his parents. She hadn't carried another child to term since. In fact she had lost one not two months before. And while it saddened her that she hadn't been able to add to hers and Liam's family, she found great joy in the clever lad running ahead of her over the cobbles towards the smithy where her husband worked. At first, Liam was just another groom to tend the horses in need of shodding. It soon became apparent to the blacksmith's that those broad shoulders of his could swing a hammer and bellow up a fire as well as any of them could. So now, Liam was learning the trade, and showed great promise. Her heart swelled at their happiness.

They rounded the street corner and headed for the smithy. Liam saw them coming and Iain ran for him shrieking, "Da!"

"'ere's my boy!" Liam scooped him up and tossed him into the air to the child's delight. "Are ye taking good care of your mother?"

"Aye, Da."

"Good man. Come in, I've something for ye." Iain ran giggling into the building, while she fell into step next to her husband.

"Hello my love," she greeted him, brushing his hand with hers.

"Have I ever told ye how lovely ye are with the sun glinting off your hair?" he asked, leaning over to plant a kiss on the top of her head.

"It sounds familiar, but I don't tire of hearing it," she teased. "What did you make for him this time?"

"A wee horse that I made."

"Out of iron?" She was taken by surprise. "Why Liam! You're getting rather clever with that forge aren't you?"

"It's a technique the Franks are teaching me now. Ye carve out what ye want in clay in reverse of what ye want, and pour molten iron into the hollow. The horse is my first piece."

"Iain will be so proud." She reached into the basket on her arm. "Here. A small meat pie that I picked up for you at the market."

"Ye do love me," he teased, taking the pie and taking a big bite out of it.

"We can't stay long. I want to spend a little while this afternoon teaching Iain his letters and I have some mending to do before I make supper."

"Aye, there be two horse inside in need of shoes I must tend to."

She smiled at him. "Go on and spoil your son with his present. We'll see you at supper."

* * *

She lifted the latch on the door into their small, two room stone cottage. It was crammed cheek by jowl to the ones next to it, but it was a home filled with love if not wealth. The jewels she'd smuggled out of her father's house were buried under the hearth. They only sold a piece once so that they could buy the cottage and the land it sat on. Other than that, they lived off what Liam made at the smithy and kept the rest of their treasures hidden.

"Come along, Iain!" she chastised him, holding the door open and shooing him inside. The boy stopped in his tracks in the middle of the room and it was then that she looked inside. Sitting at her kitchen table was her father, Finbar O'Connor, his brother Finan, and half a dozen other men she didn't recognize were scattered around the cottage.

"Well come in, Lass," her father demanded. "Get in here and serve some ale to your guests. Or did I not teach ye any proper manners?" She was shoved from the back into the cottage and the door slammed behind her. There was one more unfamiliar guard standing just inside the door.

She reached for Iain and drew him to her, holding her son to her skirts. She could feel the boy trembling against her leg. "How did you find us? Why are you here?" she demanded.

"A father needs a reason to see his only daughter?"

"You don't care a damn for me and you know it. Why did you come?"

Finbar slid out from the table, giving her a shrewd look with his dark eyes as he advanced on her. "A kinsman of mine saw you a few months ago here in Paris." The maliciousness in his gaze sent a shiver of fear down her spine. Time had not tempered Finbar's anger at being rejected. "Swore he was certain it was you, walking hand in hand with a wee boy." He gave Iain a disgusted look. "Your father and I decided to check into it, and lo and behold," he bowed sardonically at her, "a vision of loveliness greets us at the door."

"Get out!" she ordered them. "There is nothing here for you. I am properly wed. There is no point in you being here."

"Ah, but there is, Lass," her father stood from the table and came to stand next to Finbar. She could feel the room closing in on her, and she squeezed Iain's shoulder, hoping he understood to run for it once the blows started. "Y'see, ye owe something to O'Connor and meself."

"I owe you nothing!"

"But ye do, me darling. Ye do." Finbar tilted his head to the side and his dark hair flopped over his forehead. "Ye see, you didna even have the courtesy to decline my fine offer of marriage to my face as any proper woman would do. You dishonored me greatly and I be a might sore at ye for it."

"Not only did ye run like a coward," her father accused her. "But ye're a thief and a harlot to boot."

"Thief?" she shrieked. "I stole nothing from you!"

"Ye took two fine horses and your mother's jewels. If that's not thievery, I don't know what is."

"I took **my** horse, and **my** jewels. You gave them to me."

"Those jewels were a part of your bride price!" he bellowed. "Something that the filthy stable boy robbed me of!"

"Do ye see now, Mistress Ruby? Ye owe me and your father an honor-debt." Finbar's silky voice cut her to the marrow.

"Get. Out. Of. My. House," she ground out between clenched teeth.

"Oh no, Lass," Padraic shook his shaggy head. "We came to collect, and that's just what we're going to do."

He reached for her, but she ducked, shoving Iain away from her as she dove for the counter and the heavy skillet on top if it. "Iain! Run!" she screamed, whirling around and cracking the skillet across Finbar's face. His head snapped to the side, and he went down, cursing her as he tried to find his feet. Her father reached for her, and she caught him in the hand with her skillet with a satisfactory cracking of bone. She spun for the counter and the large knife hanging on the wall. Whipping around, she brandished the knife, only to have her heart stop in her chest. Finbar's brother Finan had a knife to Iain's throat and the little boy had wet himself from terror.

"Mam!" he cried, but Finan had a hand under his chin, wrenching his head back and exposing that delicate neck to the vicious blade.

"Bastard!" she screamed. "He's just a boy! Let him go!"

"Drop the knife, Mistress Ruby," Finan ordered.

"Do what he says, me darling," Finbar stood, clutching a hand to his jaw. He spat a wad of blood to the wooden floor and the faint clink of a tooth hitting the wood reached her ears. "I wouldna put it past my brother to split the boy in two for the shame ye've caused us."

Her vision blurred with tears, her only sight that of her child in unspeakable danger. Her grip on the skillet and knife shook, and the utensils clattered to the floor. "Let him go," she begged in a pained whisper.

"In a moment," Finbar advanced on her and fast as lighting, he punched her in the stomach, doubling her over in an expulsion of breath.

"Mam!"

Finbar grabbed her by the hair and took a swing for her face. Her head snapped to the side and she spun to the floor. A heavy boot landed in her gut, lifting her off the floor and smashing into the cupboard behind her. She couldn't even groan since she hadn't gotten her breath back from the first punch.

"Get up!" Finbar yelled. "I said get up!" Impatient, he grabbed her by the hair and hauled her to her feet. She stumbled, landing on the counter and clutching at it for support as air coursed into her lungs, setting them on fire. The room was spinning, and she couldn't see out of one eye.

Finbar picked up her skillet from the floor. "Did Liam make this for ye?" he asked, before lashing out with it and connecting with the side of her head. She fell forward, not even able to brace her fall with her arms. Her head bounced off the floor, and everything went dark.

* * *

The first thing she was aware of was the pain. It was everywhere. She was floating in a sea of pain and she wished the darkness would swallow her back up so that the agony would wash away. But there was a tapping on her bruised cheek keeping her from going back under, and it was then she noticed how thirsty she was. She tried to open and close her mouth in an attempt to wet her mouth, but there was something in the way. Blearily, she came back to some semblance of consciousness and she realized there was a rag stuffed in her mouth. Trying to move her hand to pull the rag out, she noticed that her hands were tightly tied to the chair she was sitting in.

"Oh!" she heard a sarcastic cry. "Yon angel awakes!" She cracked open her one good eye to see Finbar opposite from her. He was sitting next to Iain, a hand patting his small head. Iain was looking at her with sheer terror in his brown eyes. For as much as he looked like Liam, the boy had her eyes.

"Your poor face, me darling," he mocked her with his false sympathy. "I'll wager that hurts a might." The only thing she could do was narrow her one eye at him. There were a few snickers from around the cottage from Finbar's men. She wanted to be sick, but the rag would just drown her in her own vomit.

_I'll kill you for this you bastard_.

"It's nigh dark. I imagine Liam will be home for his supper soon, aye?" She closed her eye and a tear burned through. This was all a sick game to this beast. Her family was as good as dead. They were only waiting for Finbar to finish his fun.

"Ye shouldna have treated me so poorly, Mistress Ruby. This be all on your head." Another tear broke free, followed by another and another.

There was a soft dove's call from outside the window. Clearly, it was a signal of some kind because Finbar's face lit up. "Ahh, your husband returns! It's been a long time since I've had the pleasure of Liam's company."

"Are ye going to hurt me Da?" Iain whimpered.

"Oh, hush now lad," Finbar stroked his hair. "Ye dinna want to scare your mother now, do ye?" Finbar turned in his seat to watch for the door opening. Iain looked at her, and she gave him a small nod, hoping he understood.

_Please, my baby, warn your father_.

Iain sniffed back a tear, and he screamed. "DA!"

"Brat!" Finbar backhanded the boy, but it was too late. The door crashed open and Liam rushed in, knife drawn because no man walked the Paris streets at dark without protection. Two of Finbar's men rushed him, one of them Finan. Liam kicked a heavy boot into the gut of one, and whirled around with his knife, slashing Finan's throat. Finan clasped at his neck, blood spilling between his fingers and a shocked look crossed his face. His mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. Only a thin thread of blood trickled from his mouth before he sank to his knees.

"Finan!" Finbar bellowed, knocking men out of the way to get at Liam. All she could do was pull at her restraints and scream into the gag in her mouth as a sword erupted through Liam's chest from behind. Her father's face emerged next to her husband's ear.

"That'll teach you to take what doesna belong to ye, ye filthy thief," Padraic hissed in his ear, a satisfied smile blooming in his grizzled beard.

Liam's face scrunched in pain as he sank to the ground next to Finan. Finbar lunged at him, pulling a knife of his own and stabbing her husband in the stomach over and over. Finbar was screaming incoherently, and she could only scream into the gag as she watched her gentle husband die. She started crying as she screamed, choking on the rag in her mouth and Iain was screeching for his father. The small boy ran at Finbar, jumping on his back as the bastard had fallen to the ground with Liam so that he could stab him one final time in the throat before his eyes drifted closed. Finbar grabbed the boy by the neck and threw him across the room where he crashed into the stone hearth. Crawling to his brother, Finbar gathered Finan's head into his lap as he wept, brushing the hair from his brother's forehead.

"No-no-no-no-no," he pleaded, bubbles of spit falling from his mouth as he blubbered to his dead brother. "No, it wasna supposed to happen this way."

Padraic placed his hands on Finbar's shoulders. "Come away now, lad." Her father showed more concern and kindness to Finbar than he ever had to her. Still she cried and screamed her anguish, wondering how this could be happening and not one of the neighbors had come running to help. "Come away. He's gone."

"Nooo," he moaned, swiping at his eyes and leaving a trail of Finan's blood across his face. "Nooo."

He seemed to hear her muted screaming, because he fixed her with such a black look of malefaction that her heart actually squeezed in her chest. Finbar stood up, crossed the room to Iain and picked him up by the neck. Her son kicked and screamed, clawing at the hand around his neck, but Finbar didn't seem to notice. The only thing he had eyes for was her. He slammed the struggling four year old down on the table and raised his blood covered knife above his thin chest. She struggled and fought against her bonds, screaming and crying, but Finbar grit his teeth.

"I give ye this innocent blood, me Lord and master, in the name of me brother, Finan O'Connor," he intoned, bringing the knife down and stilling Iain's struggles.

_NOOOO!_ she howled, still trying to lunge for the bastard that killed her son. _NOOOO!_ The bonds cut into her skin and she could feel blood running down her hands but it was nothing compared to the ripping of her heart. Her husband. Her son. Gone.

_NOOOO!_

"Take the whore to her bed chamber," he ordered one of his men. "I'll be in shortly."

She was cut loose from the chair, and she tried to reach for her son, but the guard grabbed her by the hair and threw her to the floor. She kicked and fought, desperate to hold her son, but the guard just dragged her towards the bedroom. He tossed her on the bed, rolling her over on her stomach and retying her wrists behind her back. He took a couple groping liberties for himself, but she could feel nothing other than the agony of her loss. The guard slammed the door behind him and she was alone with her anguish.

_(- - Gift of a Thistle, by James Horner - -)_

Everything was gone. There was nothing left. She was a trembling, empty shell, capable of nothing other than the wracking sobbing noises she was making through her gag.

The door creaked open. She raised her head off the mattress and looked through her disheveled red hair to see her father enter the room. He strode to the bed and ripped the gag from her mouth.

"Come to claim me for yourself first?" she spat at him.

"I wouldn't touch filth like ye if ye be the last woman on Earth."

"How could you!" she screamed. "How could you! That was your grandchild and you let them kill him!"

"That was no blood of mine," he said callously. "And neither are ye."

"I knew it," she hissed, venom burning in her veins at the monster inches away from her. "I knew you were never man enough to father a child. My mother lay with another man to get with child!"

"Aye, I suspect she did," Padraic agreed. "She probably didna want to be poisoned to death like me first wife."

"You are a bastard."

"Throwing stones now are we, Lass?" he smiled at her. "At least your mother had the decency to be discreet in her whoring, unlike you. But she had a child, and I got to claim you for my own. It's too bad she cursed me with a daughter instead of a son."

"Poor, unfortunate you."

"Finbar is performing the last rites over Finan's body. He'll be in shortly. I imagine ye won't live through it."

"So you came in here to gloat?"

"I came in here to tell ye, that your whole life, ye've brought me nothing but shame and disappointment."

"Likewise," she glared at him, hating him almost as much as she hated Finbar. He smiled sardonically at her before turning on his heel and leaving the room. She crumbled into the mattress and wept.

_What I wouldn't give for the chance to make them suffer for what they've done_.

"My poor broken dove," a soft voice came from the corner. "Look at what they've done to you." She lifted her head from the quilt and saw a woman standing near the window who hadn't been there before. She had a mass of dark curls tumbling down her back, olive skin, and a dress the color of fresh cream. The dress was as beautiful as it was indecent the way it plunged in the front and wrapped around her. She looked as if she had walked right off the pottery urn at the Greek gypsy family's stall at the market – the ones who sold their skewers of spiced meat and told fortunes for a copper coin.

"Do not worry, they cannot hear us," she reassured her.

"Who are you?" she croaked through her tears.

"I am Diana," the beautiful woman answered.

"And I am Lilith," a fair haired child emerged from the other corner. She couldn't have been more than nine, and she bounced to the other woman, holding out a hand that the elder took. They both came near her and sat on the bed, helping her to a sitting position.

"It is a heinous crime what they've done to you, my dove," Diana brushed the hair from her face. "Let me help you." The woman's fingers brushed her cheek, and while she could tell it was still swollen, the pain disappeared.

"Wh-what are you?" she stammered. She should have been afraid, but there was nothing left in her to feel fear. "Are you angels come to take me away to my family?"

"No, Ruby," the girl said, her eyes flashing to a brilliant white. "We are not angels. But we can help you… if you want us to."

"My family is dead. What can you do to help me?"

"Would you like revenge on the beasts that did this to you?" Diana asked, her fingers trailing down the line of her jaw, more pains easing away with the feather touch.

"How am I to get revenge on them? They are seven men! We are two women and a child!"

"Oh, we won't be going out there with you," Diana laughed a tinkling laugh, her eyes glowed red for a moment before going back to the black they had been. "But we can give you the strength and the skill you need to kill them yourself. You can exact your revenge on them; make them suffer for what they've done."

"How?" she whispered.

"Is vengeance something that you wish? Or would you rather lie here, tied up and waiting for that brute to rape and kill you?"

"Vengeance," she seethed. "I want vengeance."

"Even at the cost of your soul?" Lilith's white eyes twinkled with merriment.

"My soul died with my husband and son," she hissed. Apparently, that was the answer Diana was looking for.

"Very well. Ruby, I will give you the means to kill the men in the other room. I will give you strength, and endurance, and skill with a blade unmatched by another. You will have your revenge, and in ten years, I will come find you to take my payment of your life and soul. Do you agree to my terms?"

"I do." She didn't even hesitate in her answer. She wanted blood.

"The deal must be sealed with a kiss." Diana leaned in and pressed her soft lips to her cracked and bleeding ones. In that less than chaste kiss, she felt her quivering arms strengthen, she felt her wounds heal, and she felt fast and agile and deadly. Diana broke away, her red eyes glowing like the jewels of her namesake. "There now. How do you feel, Dove?"

"I feel… strong."

"Ahhh, you look fierce too. A dove no longer. Perhaps I should call you, Hawk, instead?"

"Will you untie me?" she asked, leaning forward to remind them that her wrists were still bound.

"You will not be held captive by those bonds, my red hawk. But perhaps it would be better if the animal still thought you incapacitated? Let him walk into the snare that will kill him like the arrogant fool that he is."

She didn't understand how she could break free of the ropes on her own. Even with the strength she now felt, she knew she couldn't just rip her way free. But Diana stood, holding her hand out for the girl who bounced happily off the bed and grasped her hand.

"Show them just what wrath is, my beloved," Diana smiled indulgently at her.

"Oh, wait!" the girl cried, breaking free of the handhold and running back to her. Lilith cupped her face in her small hands and said, "A gift, from me to you. Use it well." The child quickly pecked her lips and the contact made her head explode with an influx of information that flowed in unfiltered from the otherworldly child. Spells, incantations, potions. The child had given her the gift of witchcraft, and she knew in her heart that the knowledge was real.

"Ten years," the child's eyes glowed eagerly. "Make them count." Lilith ran to Diana, grabbed her hand and the two disappeared into thin air right in front of her. On the shelf behind where they had been standing, was a long knife with a wicked hook on the end. She could see herself digging the curved blade into Finbar's black heart, and she smiled as she heard approaching footsteps. She didn't fully understand what just happened, but she felt vicious and perfectly capable of returning the hurts she'd suffered on the man lifting the latch on her bedchamber door.

Vengeance would not be swift, she would take her time.

"Oh, there you are me darling," Finbar smiled at her as he entered, a half-crazed look in his dark eyes. He paused to throw the bolt across the door, supposedly hampering her escape

"Did you expect me to be elsewhere?"

"Well, I do remember a story of ye jumping out a window when the door was barring you in."

"I have no where to go any longer, and no reason to run."

"No reason to run?" he asked incredulously. "Me darling, what do ye think I'm fixing to do with ye? Have a glass of whiskey with ye and discuss reparations?" He reached down and gabbed her elbow, jerking her roughly to her feet and pressing her face first into the closest wall. Her wrists felt like they were going to snap the way that they were bent between their two bodies. He pressed into her backside, letting her feel exactly what his intent was with her as he hissed in her ear. "I'm going to take what ye owe me out of your hide. Then I'll send ye to meet your precious Liam."

"You aren't a fraction of the man that Liam was," she goaded him. "I can tell by how small a threat you are." Her insult to his manhood was not taken very well. He grabbed her hair and smashed her forehead against the wall. He pressed into her again, wrenching her head back so that she could see his face.

"Someone should have taught ye manners somewhere along the way, Mistress. It's not proper to criticize a man."

"When I see one, I'll try not to." She shifted suddenly, letting her bound hands seek purchase on his protruding, treasured anatomy, squeezing and digging into flesh and he screamed. He let go of his grip on her hair to hit her, but she was faster now, and she whipped her head back into his nose, a satisfying crunch and a pained howl was the finest music she'd ever heard. She shouldered him out of her way, feeling a power in her mind make the ropes around her wrists fall to the floor. She pulled her fist back, and drove it right into his shattered nose.

"Bitch!" he cursed, grabbing his face before lunging at her. She dove for the shelf and the knife Diana left for her and whirled to face him.

Armed and crouching, she felt like a stalking wolf, just waiting for the opportune moment to strike. He charged and she lashed out with the blade, getting him across the cheek and blood spurted out and sprayed her hand. Finbar howled, and she wondered if Diana had left a final gift in that the men in the other room still could not hear what was happening here in the bedchamber.

"So the kitten has claws after all," he sneered, holding a hand to his cheek and giving her a seething look. "As if I needed any more reason to want to kill you."

"You've taken everything from me, you bastard. I will make you suffer for what you've done." She lunged for him, feinting left and then dodging right when he went to cover the side he thought she was going after. She sank the blade into his side right up to the hilt. Finbar screamed and batted at her, but she had already withdrawn the knife, the wicked hook on the end ripping flesh and muscle free as she danced out of the way. She could feel something welling up in her, and could only call it bloodlust. This beast had taken everything from her, and she would make him pay.

She dove for his feet and he was caught off guard by her unusual attack. Jumping back, he tripped over the foot she kicked out, falling heavily to the floor. She pounced, slamming the knife into his stomach, ripping it upwards inch by inch as the beast cried out in pain. Thin threads of blood started seeping out of his mouth, and she rolled off him and jerked him to his feet. He stumbled, gripping at his gut and the gash she'd made there. He swung weakly for her, but she pushed him onto the bed, picking up the length of rope that had bound her earlier. She was aware of the line she was crossing at that moment – she just didn't care.

"You're right, Finbar," she spoke softly. "It's not as if we could sit down over a cup of whiskey and discuss reparations. It's too late for that now, aye?" She rolled him over roughly and tied his hands behind his back. Rolling him back so that she could look into his eyes, she said, "I'm going to take what you owe me out of your hide. I'm going to skin you like a hare, and only _then_ will I kill you for what you've done." She had the pleasure of seeing real fear in his crazed eyes then. "And after I'm done with you, I'll kill every one of your men out there."

"And what about your father?" he asked, blood bubbling past his lips. "Would ye kill your own kin, ye devil woman?"

"I have no kin. You killed them." She lowered herself to sit on the bed next to him, knife poised above the skin of his thigh. "I think I'll start here."

* * *

She took hours to kill him. They were not disturbed. The men in the other room must have been ordered to allow their leader to have his fun un-interrupted. The marriage bed she'd shared with Liam was now bathed in blood and flesh. She was splattered head to toe with it, the drops drying black on her skin. When she felt him finally slipping away, she had ripped the knife into his gut, tearing and pulling his entrails with the hooked blade. His death screams made her smile at him as his eyes rolled up into his head and he fell still.

She rolled off the bed and opened the window. Climbing out into the Paris night, she walked calmly to the front door. Raising a hand, she knocked politely on her own door and stepped back to wait for someone to answer. She could hear hissing back and forth from inside, the men bickering about who would open the door, when it flung open. Without waiting, she trust the knife into the throat of the surprised guard, yanking it out and pulling him out into the dark as he fell to the ground. There was no time to go slowly as she had with Finbar, and she killed them quickly, always just a half step ahead of them and using her new magical knowledge to her advantage. The guards made the sign of the cross at her, believing the blood covered apparition in front of them to be the spirit of the dead girl, Ruby – for surely this was not the same woman they had beaten and tied to a table several hours before. They were superstitious and afraid, and she used this fear against them.

She saved Padraic for last so that she could enjoy his death as she had the carcass on her bed in the other room.

That line was far behind her now.

* * *

She had fled to England after the massacre in her cottage in Paris. The speed and strength Diana had gifted her with faded away along with the light in her father's eyes as he died at her hand. She settled in England, running a small apothecary shop, selling herbs and elixirs with the knowledge the child Lilith had given her. The plague had taken London by storm, and people were dying in the streets with wracking coughs and open soars on their bodies. She did not take sick. She sold tonics to help people keep the Black Death at bay.

Then, one day, she was arrested on the charge of witchcraft. She was tried, found guilty, and tied to a stake above a pyre of wood and oil in the center square. A crowd had gathered to watch her burn. Not even the threat of the plague could keep some people home from an execution. She had been hearing dogs baying outside her door for two days before she was arrested, knowing in her heart that the ten years Diana had promised her were up, and that Hell's dogs were after her.

Tied to the stake, she saw a woman holding the hand of a girl-child. She knew they were Diana and Lilith, even though they were completely different bodies than the ones that had helped her that night ten years before. But it was them, of that she was certain. She could see a second grotesque face under the ones they were wearing now, and she could see the glowing of their otherworldly eyes. The woman stood with her arms around the shoulders of the girl with her, and the woman's other hand rested on the back of a giant spectral dog.

She didn't think that anyone else could see them.

Then the fire started.

* * *

She had gotten off the rack quickly. Lilith had been the one to strap her down, carving and cutting and burning at her, telling her that she would stop if she gave herself fully to her.

She said yes.

* * *

In the baseball field in Joliette, Illinois, as Connor's spell started to course through her, and her veins turned to fire, and her head felt like it was about to explode, she couldn't help but think of her son. Her little boy looked little like this one. Her son had been younger, and smaller, and he had been beautiful as the miniature version of her husband. She had clutched the memory of Liam and Iain to her chest, and for centuries, they were still with her. They were the reason she was different from other demons. She had not let go of the love she had felt for them and the hatred she had for Finbar O'Connor, and those emotions kept her from being the mindless cretin that other demons were. It was why she was chosen for this important job.

And seeing the boy on the ground, next to death, reminded her of her son dying at Connor's hand, and the anger welled forth and she said, '_screw it_' to her orders and became determined to save the child.

Connor stole her son from her, but he would not have this child. Not if she had anything to say about it.

* * *

Connor's curse took a lot out of her.

It almost killed her.

When she came to in the unfamiliar house, the first thing she saw was Dean Winchester sitting in a chair next to the sofa she was laying on. A nearby loveseat had the boy, Ben, sleeping.

"He made it." Dean had said, gently brushing a lock of hair from the child's forehead. "Thanks to you."

"You brought me with you?" She couldn't comprehend his reasoning. He hated her. He should have left her there to rot… She would have if in his position.

"I couldn't leave you behind. Not after that."

She hadn't expected to be saved by him. She had expected to wake up finding a pissed off demon outside her salt circle, and having to fight her way free, and then tying to find the hunters afterwards. The fact that he didn't strand her there took her aback.

But she couldn't let her feelings get in the way of the mission. They had already almost jeopardized the whole thing. But she was here, and she could see that Dean now trusted her implicitly because she saved the boy for her own twisted reasons. And although she hadn't completely lied to Dean when she told him before that she loved Sam, she hadn't told the whole truth either. Sam reminded her of Liam. His size, his shoulders, his way of walking, even the crinkle in his eyes when he laughed. She thought she was seeing a ghost the first time she laid eyes on him, and she wondered how she could go on with the plan set out for her to lead Sam to his destruction when all she wanted was to hug him to her. She didn't doubt that sick bastard, double-crossing angel, Zachariah, had something to do with all of it.

But Sam wasn't Liam. There had been no tenderness between her and Sam, there was no place for it in the relationship they had. But she knew enough about him that he had once been gentle and tender with another woman – one that was brutally taken from him like Liam was taken from her.

But Sam wasn't her long dead husband. Sam was her mission. And her allegiance belonged elsewhere – not to the hunter across from her.

So when Dean looked so lost and miserable and asked, "Is Sam in there?"

She lied.

"No, Dean. Sam's gone."

* * *

A/N: Sorry guys. Got a little long winded on that one but I hoped you liked it. And killing the kid was really hard for me to do but it was a part of Ruby's motives for doing what she did to save Ben. Don't hate me.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: Kripke's toys, my sandbox. Thanks for letting me play.

A/N: Sorry for not posting last week, guys. Real life dealt me a sucker punch.

Just to give you all a summary since it's been awhile since the last update, Dean, Ruby and Bobby rescued Ben from the demon Connor, but Ruby sacrificed herself to draw the black magic out of the boy. Both are unconscious and Dean and Bobby are at Missouri Mosley's asking for help as Bobby suspects she has the herb needed to wake them up from their comatose state. Also, from the chapter that was a back story of Ruby's human past and her history with Connor, we found out that Ruby of course has a foot in both camps. While she saved Ben from death for her own reasons, she was lying to Dean when she told him that Sam is gone. _Lying freaking demons…_

Now on with the story.

**Chapter 9**

"_Dean Winchester," Missouri spoke with the air of a pissed off grade school teacher. "Do you mind telling me why you've brought __**that**__ to my house?"_

_

* * *

_

**Three weeks ago:**

"Can we come in before someone sees us?" he hissed, thinking how bad it would look for anyone looking out their window and seeing two strange men showing up on their psychic neighbor's driveway with an unconscious woman slumped over ones shoulder.

"You are not bringing a demon into my house, boy!" she hissed.

"Hear us out, Missouri," Bobby, pleaded with her, shifting Ben's weight in his arms for added effect. The old man really was trying to play on her sympathies. "She saved the boy here, and got zapped in the process. We need the retispatha flower to bring them outta whatever limbo they're in." Missouri continued to glare at them over her crossed arms and ample bosom.

"Please, Missouri," Dean pleaded. "How much trouble do you think she can cause in the state she's in?"

Missouri scowled at the brunette's limp form, but her eyes kept flicking to the nine year old. Finally, she relented. "If I see her eyelids twitch in a way I don't like, I'm exorcizing her straight back to hell."

"Fine," Dean agreed, shouldering his way into her house, not bothering to mention that Ruby was locked inside the body she was riding and couldn't be exorcized.

He plowed his way into the living room, slumping Ruby's body onto the sofa while Bobby laid Ben out on the cushions of the loveseat. While Bobby pulled Missouri aside to tell her what happened, he flitted to Ben's side, propping his head up on a pillow and pulling a multi-colored afghan from the back of the loveseat and draping it over the kid. He glanced up to see Missouri giving him that blunt stare of hers from around Bobby's shoulder. The psychic glanced from him to Ben and back to him.

"Looks like you've been busy, Dean," she snipped. "How long were you planning on hiding the fact you had a son?"

_Damn she's good_.

"I only just found out," he answered instead. "How could you tell?"

"Besides the fact he's as goofy looking as you were at that age?" she said sarcastically. "You have the same energy tone in your auras. It's common in families."

"Oh."

"It's like blood-type. You inherit your aura energy tone from your mother or father."

"I see."

"So where is this child's mother?" she asked softly, seeming to know something was terribly wrong and changing her demeanor to that of someone who was visiting someone gravely sick in a hospital. Missouri came up to him and grasped his spell-burnt hand in her soft dark one. "Oh, Sweetie…" she sighed as whatever she did to work her mojo filtered into her. "I'm so sorry." A tear actually formed at the corner of her eye. He didn't know if she could see what he saw in his mind, or only pick up the tone of his inner guilt and turmoil, but whatever it was seemed to squash the anger she was festering away in.

"This demon really saved him?" she looked at Ruby with a little less disdain than she had a moment ago.

"He's not out of the woods yet, Missouri," Bobby reminded her. "He needs those retispatha flowers."

"Of course. I'll be right back." Missouri bustled out of the room and headed into the kitchen. Dean heard water running, and something clicking onto the stove top before her footsteps faded away.

He could only sit on the arm of the loveseat, nervously rearranging the blanket over Ben's shoulders until Missouri came back. She was holding a small first aid kit, and a glass cup of dried, tubular, three-lobed flowers. "We have to make a tea from the flowers and get it down his throat," she explained as she opened the first aid kit. "It will be another minute until the water boils, so why don't we patch up these cuts and burns, hmm?" She didn't wait for permission as she fished Ben's hand out from under the blanket and started cleaning the crusted gash across his palm from Ruby's spell. At least the kid was out of it and didn't feel the stinging burn of the antiseptic wash. Missouri smeared antibiotic ointment over the burnt knuckles and wrapped the whole hand in gauze.

"The water should be hot now. I'll be right back." She left the room, taking the glass cup of flowers with her but leaving the med-kit.

"It wouldn't be such a bad thing if you patched yourself up, Kid," Bobby growled, moving towards the white plastic box.

"Thanks, Nurse Bobby, but I'll wait until Ben's taken care of first." He could barely concentrate on anything other than Ben getting his medicine. "These flowers are legit, right? Ruby's not screwing with us?"

"There's no _known_ use for these flowers, at least not by medical science. These flowers are used for supernatural medicine, and the knowledge is closely guarded by the local tribes in Borneo. Their healing properties vary between users, depending what was done to them, but they're mainly used for folk afflicted by black magic – it roots it out."

"I'd say it was black magic," he scowled angrily at the idea of Connor laying a hand on his kid and doing this to him.

"There's no doubting that," Bobby mumbled his agreement as Missouri came back into the room, a steaming cup of tea and a spoon in her hands.

"What about Ruby?" Dean demanded, eyeing the single cup in the psychic's hand.

"You want to squander my store of retispatha on a _demon_?" Missouri's eyes nearly popped out of her head at the ludicrousness of it.

"I didn't lug her across three states just so that she could die on your flowered sofa! We don't even know if she saved him or just bought him some more time. She's getting the damned flowers!"

"Don't talk to me like that, Boy. Not in my house you don't!"

He was running thin at the edges from the activity of the last thirty odd hours. He scrubbed a hand over his stubble and said in a more calm manner, "Missouri, I'm sorry for snapping at you. But there is something bigger going on right now than a demon passed out on your sofa. Ruby saved Ben, she's been helping us try and stop this thing, and we need her. Please. She needs the medicine too."

"Tell me exactly what is going on," she said quietly, sitting on the edge of the loveseat near Ben's waist, the spoon and tea poised in her hands as she dribbled the hot liquid into Ben's mouth.

So he told her everything. He told her about the apocalypse, and the angels screwing them over by working with the demons. He told her about the seals, and that he was the final seal and that his death would break Lucifer free. And he reluctantly told her that Sam had been possessed by Lilith, and that Lilith was the one gunning for him and attacking everyone he knew and cared about in order to draw him out. He told her about Sarah, Cassie and Lisa and their violent end. His voice broke and his throat closed up by the end of it remembering the deathly pallor of Lisa's face and the blood on his hands.

"So how do you stop her?" Missouri asked as she spoon-fed the more of the concoction into Ben's mouth.

"I have to kill her before she kills me."

"But she's in Sam, and you said you lost the knife fighting that demon in Joliet."

"I'll have to get it back."

"And Sam?"

"I…I…" he stammered, not wanting to think about that just yet. Not on top of everything else that was going down right now.

"You do need help – don't you." She didn't say it as a question, casting another glance at the demon. "You actually trust her?" Missouri was trying to read his eyes with her question; that blunt and probing look of hers again.

"I don't have much choice," he admitted. "The guys I thought were on my side stabbed me in the back and I have got next to no one in my corner." He looked down on Ruby's still body. "For everything she's done to me and Sam since we've met her, she didn't have to sacrifice herself for Ben. She's like this because she saved my kid and I owe it to her to try and help her."

"I just find it so hard to believe that the angels have double-crossed us," she lamented. "I've been a good Baptist woman my whole life! How could they do this to us?"

"You better believe it, Missouri," Bobby put a reassuring hand on her plump shoulder. "There is no one batting for team human but us."

The older woman looked forlornly down on the thin brunette. "Alright. If you're so sure about her."

_Thank fuck_.

"I won't have that language in my house Dean Winchester!" she brandished the metal spoon at him. "Use that word in my walls again and I'll have you scrubbing the stoop and painting the fence!"

"How did you…?"

"It was written clear on your face," she waved the spoon again. "Now watch your tongue." She waddled out of the room and into the kitchen to make Ruby's tea.

"Now I'm getting blamed for things I'm not even saying," he muttered to Bobby.

* * *

It took two days for Ben to wake up. He hadn't left the boy's side for more than a piss break since they got there, and his back was killing him from the lousy armchair he'd taken up residence in. It was nothing more than a faint stirring under the blanket, a toss of the head, and Dean was on his knees next to the sofa, a hand on Ben's chest.

"Ben? Ben? Can you hear me?" His voice drew Bobby and Missouri into the room from their station in the kitchen. They lingered in the archway while he waved them back, not wanting to scare the kid by having strangers hovering over him. Not that he was much better than a stranger to the boy, but at least he was a familiar face.

_He's coming to_…

Ben's brown eyes fluttered open, bleary and unfocused. He closed them tight, and reopened them, searching the room and landing on the face above his.

"Ben?" he whispered, shaking his hand on his chest slightly. "Say something, Ben."

"Dean?" he croaked, coughing slightly. Bobby materialized next to them with a glass of water. Ben startled at the sight of the gruff hunter, when Dean drew his attention back to him.

"Its okay, Ben," he reassured him, "he's a friend." Picking up the glass and holding it to his lips, he let some water trickle down his throat. But Ben started struggling, fighting away from the water and him.

"NO! NO! Get away from me!" Ben kicked out with his foot, connecting with his arm and the water went sailing, splashing over Ruby's body and hissing into steam. The demon didn't even stir; she was still so far out of it.

"That was Holy Water?" he bellowed at Bobby, outraged.

"I had to make sure he wasn't possessed," he growled, stepping back from the sofa and the murderous look in his adopted son's eyes.

"Ben!" he stressed, turning back to the kid. "Calm down."

"Get away from me! Lemme go!"

"We're not gonna hurt you." He had his arms up so the kid could see his empty hands. He felt like he was trying to talk someone down from a ledge, and he was grateful that they were on the ground floor.

"The hell you aren't! Sam killed my mom!" he shrieked, jumping to stand on the back of the loveseat, his back pressed into the wallpaper and looking for an escape.

"That wasn't Sam!"

"I know what Sam looks like! I've met you guys before! Remember!" Ben leapt for the end of the sofa, trying to run for the door, but Bobby was there in a flash. The guy moved pretty fast for an old timer.

"Hold on, Son," Bobby said gently, not making a grab for him but just blocking his way. "Just listen to us. We're tryin to help ya."

"Lemme go!" he cried. Dean's heart shattered even more at the sound of it, if that was even possible.

"Please, Ben, just listen for minute," he tried to reason with his son. "If you still want to leave, we'll take you where ever you want. We won't stop you." He was lying through his teeth. There was no way he was letting the kid out of his sight. "That wasn't Sam! That was a monster that took Sam's body. A demon. Remember what me and Sam do for a living? Remember how you helped us that time you met us before? A monster is inside Sam's body and is using him to do these things. It wasn't really Sam. We aren't going to hurt you. I'm sorry that we got there too late to stop it but you have to trust us and let us help you."

"More monsters?" the kid cried, looking like he was going to crumble at any second.

"I'm sorry, Ben. I really am. We tried to get there in time."

"He killed my mom." Tears streamed down his face and Dean couldn't help himself and grabbed the kid and hugged him fiercely to his chest.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into his hair.

"My mom. They killed her right in front of me." Ben was rubbing his face in the material of his t-shirt, seeming like he wanted to burrow into him in an effort to be safe. All he could do was hug him tighter and whisper reassurances in his ear. Bobby and Missouri shrank back a bit, giving them room for this moment between them. Neither wanted to intrude on their pain.

Ben shook and cried. He wailed and beat his fist against his chest, and still he held him – letting him grieve in any way he could. When he succumbed to sobbing hiccups, he tried to talk again.

"I was in the room the whole time," Ben moaned. "I saw what they did to my mom… and… I know who you are."

"You do?" His heart clenched at the trauma this boy had been forced to endure. His entire world had been shattered more than anyone that age should have to bear. Not once – but twice – the monsters had come calling at this boy's door. Winchester blood really was cursed.

"The monster was pretending to be Sam. Mom was begging him to let me go because you're my dad." Ben sniffed back a tear and swiped an arm over his stained face. "Is it true? Are you my dad?"

"Yeah, Ben. I am," he murmured into his short dark hair, knowing that Ruby's spell was better than some rigged Maury Povich paternity test. _Blood of my blood and flesh of my flesh_ didn't sound like it would work on someone who wasn't those things. Not to mention Missouri's aura-energy-tone-new-age-shit.

"Then why have you never been there? Why did you leave when you helped us last time? What kind of dad walks out on their kid!" Ben shoved him, anger filling his brown eyes that were just like Lisa's.

"I didn't know," he whispered hoarsely, his throat raw from the lump that grew there. He tried to reach for Ben but he danced out of the way. "Your mom was trying to protect you, Ben. She was trying to keep you safe."

"By hiding me from the guy who should've protected us?" Ben's fist was clenched at his side, and Dean almost hoped the boy took a swing at him. He deserved it. Tenfold.

"Don't be mad at her, Ben. Please don't be mad at her. She loved you more than anything."

Ben sagged to the floor, crying anew. Missouri came into the living room carrying a cup of hot chocolate and placing it on the coffee table.

"Ben?" Her soft, kind voice caught his attention and he lifted his head in defeat. "Ben, Sweetie – I am so sorry about your mama. And I'm sorry about what's happened to you. Little boys should never have to know about the monsters out there." She reached for his hand and winced slightly when they made contact. She must have gotten one hell of a visual. "Baby, I am so sorry." She patted his hand, a tear leaking out the corner of her eye. "You've been days without anything to eat, Baby. Will you try to drink this? We only want to help, Sweetheart, but you need food."

"'Kay," he said brokenly, reaching for the mug and taking a sip. Missouri crouched on the floor with him, patting his hand the whole time. He finished off the hot chocolate and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

"There's a good boy." Missouri rested a palm on his cheek. "How's your hand, child?"

It seemed to be the first time he noticed his gauze wrapped hand. "What happened to my hand?"

"Your father, Bobby, and that girl over there tried to help you. You've been asleep for days by a bad spell. Your hand, and Dean's, got injured when they tried to break the spell."

"Why is that girl asleep?"

"She's got the same thing wrong with her has you did. She just hasn't woken up yet."

"Will she be okay?" Dean wasn't sure, but Ben seemed to be sounding a little groggy. Missouri kept patting his hand, speaking in that soft voice, and leading him with questions.

"I think so. Your father and Bobby hope so. She's helping them fight the monsters."

"She fights monsters?"

Yeah, the kid was definitely getting groggy. His eyes were getting heavy, and he was listing from side to side slightly.

"You're getting tired, Baby. Do you want to lie down and sleep?"

"…Safe?" he mumbled, half asleep already.

"You're safe here. Sleep, my little love."

Ben tipped forward and Missouri caught him against her bosom.

"Get him back on the loveseat," she ordered gently.

"What the hell did you just do?" Dean asked incredulously, stooping down to lift the boy and place him on the sofa again. Missouri pushed herself to her feet with a grunt and reached to spread out the multi-colored afghan over Ben.

"I hypnotized him. The poor little lamb was so distraught… and who wouldn't be?" The blanket snapped out in the air, and drifted heavily over the slumbering form of his son.

"That was like no hypnotizing I've ever seen," Bobby huffed.

"So I'm more subtle with my skill than others," she shrugged. "The poor boy has seen things that no child should ever see. He needs rest, and he needs to eat when he wakes back up. I'll try and draw out some more of what he saw in that house then." She shook her head sadly. "Poor little lamb," she muttered as she walked away.

"The force is strong in this one," Dean quipped to Bobby, sinking into the armchair again and covering his eyes with his hand. He was such a tornado of emotions right now, he didn't want to dwell on them. Some sleep for himself wouldn't be too bad if it meant he could get away from all this guilt for an hour or two.

Missouri must have been reading his energies again, because she popped her head around the corner and said, "You need sleep too, Dean. They aren't going anywhere."

* * *

He heard Ruby rustling. That was what woke him. It was the same as Ben all over again. A twitch of the head, a hand flopped around for a second. Then her eyes opened. But instead of being unfocused and roaming, they were ink black and freaktastic in their intense scrutiny of her surroundings. She looked like she was ready to tear anything apart that moved, and he waited a moment for her to look in his direction before saying anything to her and risking startling her.

She zeroed in on him, and then her eyes flitted to Ben asleep on the loveseat beside him. He had been brushing the hair off the boy's forehead when she woke up.

"He made it," he said, still gently brushing a lock of hair from the child's forehead. "…Thanks to you."

Her black eyes narrowed as she studied him. He didn't want to make any sudden movements incase she freaked out like Ben had earlier. He definitely didn't want her to go full-metal-jacket-all-out-demon on him; not in Missouri's living room.

Her eyes switched out from the solid black to her host's brown ones. "You brought me with you?" she asked, confusion and incredulity painting her voice as she sat up.

He answered her honestly, because, what the hell else was there anymore, right? "I couldn't leave you behind. Not after that."

"I would've left me behind," her eyes drifted to the far corner of the room, not meeting his gaze.

"We're in this mess together, right? I need as many people watching my back as I can get."

"You are right in the middle of the proverbial rock and hard place," she snorted, rubbing a small hand over her face. "Can't say I envy your position, but I'm kinda in there with you."

"All the demons know you turned on your own kind and sided with us."

"Yeah… They all know. And they'd all love to kill me for it."

"We need to get that knife back."

"I can't believe you threw it you stupid sonofabitch," she hissed.

"Hey!"

"Sorry. What's done is done. We need a plan, and we need to find Connor. No way that slimy bastard gave it up to Lilith or anyone else. He would've kept that sweet little toy for himself."

"How do we get it back?"

"We use me for bait. Now that he's got something that would actually kill me, he'd love to use it."

"Why does he have such a hard-on for your corpse anyway?"

"Remember how I said that night in the motel room when I found you, that Connor and I have a history?"

"Yeah… what's that mean? You had a time-share in Florida that didn't work out?"

"Dick."

"Yahtzhee," he drew out slowly, not sure where she was headed, but curious all the same. It seemed like a lifetime ago, not days, that she showed up at his door, black and blue and asking to help.

"Connor and I knew each other when we were still human. My father agreed for him to marry me, but Connor was almost as big of a sick bastard then as he his now. I ran off and married the man I was in love with and we went into hiding in France. A few years after, Connor found us and killed my husband and son right in front of me. He was going to rape and kill me, but while I was tied up and alone, waiting for death, a woman with red eyes offered to help me get revenge in exchange for my soul."

"A crossroads demon."

"Her name was Diana," she whispered, transported back in time. "She had a little girl with white eyes with her."

_Lilith… I wonder if Diana was that Tammy girl from that witch's coven last year…_

"I made the deal, and I killed that sonofabitch slowly for what he did."

"So he thinks he owes you a death," he repeated the words Connor had said in the ball field in Joliet. "Where did the witchcraft come in?"

Ruby sighed. "It was a parting gift from Lilith. After Connor was dead and I ran, I used the knowledge she gave me to survive. I didn't know that the more I used it, the more I was bound to her. Ten years later, I was caught and burned at the stake for witchcraft. I chose the pyre over the hellhounds, and Diana and Lilith were there watching me burn, ready to take me home."

Dean sat and pondered over her story. One thing was still nagging at the back of his mind, so he asked, "So why did you save Ben? Why did you put yourself in danger for a kid you don't know? Forgive me for thinking you had some ulterior motives, but you've never struck me as the self-sacrificing type. So why'd you do it?"

"Isn't it obvious?" She was looking at him like he was thick in the head, but he just stared blankly at her, waiting for her to tell him.

"Connor took my son from me, Dean. I wasn't about to stand by and let him have yours too."

So that was it, then. Everything was out on the table between them now. And dammit all to hell and back… he trusted her. Him. Dean Winchester. Trusting a fucking demon.

_Fuck, if my dad were still alive…_

He scrubbed a hand over his eyes, tired beyond the physical sense. He brushed his palm over Ben's forehead, relishing in the warm feel of it. He owed his son's life to this demon next to him. The same demon that had caused him so much pain and grief – and now he was working with her.

Was indebted to her.

Would go into battle with her to stop the apocalypse.

He sighed, sitting up straight to look her square in the eyes. He felt lost in a big deep ocean, sharks circling and nowhere to go.

So he asked her point blank, "Is Sam in there?"

She returned his steady gaze, an almost tear forming in one of her dark eyes. "No, Dean. Sam's gone."

* * *

A/N: Lying freaking demons…


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: Kripke's toys, my sandbox. Thanks for letting me play.

**Chapter 10**

_Dean asked her point blank, "Is Sam in there?"_

_Ruby returned his steady gaze, an almost tear forming in one of her dark eyes. "No, Dean. Sam's gone."_

**

* * *

**

Two weeks ago:

_(- - Burn it to the Ground, by Nickleback - -) playing on bar speakers_

He was trapped in his own mind. Ridden by pure black evil. Seeing every vile and heinous thing Lilith made his body do. He was a prisoner, and Lilith the masochistic warden in charge. He could do nothing as he watched his hijacked hand drift up the semi-bared thigh of a beautiful blonde. He could not stop her as Lilith used his mouth to whisper in the woman's ear, "If you give me your soul, I'll give you the best night of your life."

He could not warn the hapless victim who giggled and smiled and whispered back, "Think highly of yourself do you?" The brazen girl thought he was giving her a cocky come-on line and she bought it hook, line and sinker. She had no clue what she was really dealing with.

"You have no idea," Lilith grinned with his mouth.

"Okay, handsome. Deal. Let's see what you got." She picked up her purse and slung it over her shoulder, giving him '_do-me_' eyes and he groaned internally. This would be the fourth one in three days.

"Deals are sealed with a kiss." Lilith leaned down and pressed his lips against the girl's, sealing her fate as she kissed him back. He could do nothing for this girl. Lilith would take her somewhere private, take her pleasure from the girl, and reap her soul in ten years if she lived that long. With the apocalypse blooming on the horizon, this girl would likely be dead and in hell within a few months. All for a literal one-night-stand-from-hell.

Afterwards, when the girl was spent and exhausted, half-wrapped in the sheets of the motel they were in, Lilith pressed his naked body against the girl's and whispered silkily, "So… The best night of your life?"

She laughed throatily into the pillow. "Definitely."

"Good." Lilith swung his legs over the side of the bed, snatched up his jeans and threaded his legs into them. The girl shot up in the bed, holding the sheet to her naked breasts in a too-little-too-late show of modesty.

"Where are you going?" She sounded jilted and pissed.

"Oh, don't worry, Sweetheart," Lilith smiled at her and leaned down and kissed her enthusiastically, pressing her back into the mattress until she was breathless. "I've gotta go to work, Doll. But don't look so upset. You are definitely gonna see me again. Real soon." Lilith winked at her before tossing his shirt over his head and walking out the door.

_Why are you doing this?_ he demanded of her.

_A girl's gotta have a hobby, Sam_.

_The world is gonna end bloody soon, and you're still harvesting souls? Why?_

'_Cuz the Bossman's gonna need fuel for his ride. How do you suppose he muscles up if there are no souls to feed him?_

_So all those souls in hell…? Oh, God. He'll consume the souls for power?_

_That's what I've been collecting them for,_ she chirped happily._ He'll burn through them over time, yes, but fresh meat is always more delectable, no?_

_I wish I had killed you_.

_But then you would have started the whole ride even sooner. Don't tell me you aren't holding out hope that your big brother will save you and stop the apocalypse and take you to the Grand Canyon and Disney World. Look at it this way; you get a front row seat to Armageddon. The second he kills me, the real fun starts. I'm just sorry I won't get to see the big finale._

_You'll never beat him. Dean's too good._

_I don't have to beat him, moron. He has to kill me, and he will because of the giant target I'm painting on my back. Well… your back. So until then, it's my job to rack up the body count in hell anyway I see fit. You should be happy that I prefer women over men. I bet you'd have bigger objections if I used you to lure a man to our bed._

She winked and blew a kiss at a man leaning against a wall outside a pub and smoking a cigarette, earning a scowl and a cold shoulder turn from the stranger.

_You're sick. You know that?_

_Hey, it's not my fault women are drawn to this body of yours, Sam. It's like shooting fish in barrel here. It's so easy, it should be illegal. How on earth you weren't doing this on your own, I have no idea._

_Bitch._

_You think this is bad, wait until Lucifer is riding your fine ass. He'll make me look like Miss Daisy._

_He's an angel, _he argued_. He has to have my permission to take my body, and I'll never allow it._

_Silly rabbit. He doesn't need your permission if you're dead, _she sing-songed_._

_What?_ he deadpanned.

_Dean kills me, thereby killing you in the process. He breaks the final seal and leaves a nice 'n tasty, still-warm vessel for the boss to shack up in. It's a tidy little package when you think about it. I imagine Lucifer will enjoy his first kill to be your pain-in-the-ass brother. Too bad I won't see it_, she sighed. _I would __love__ to see Dean ripped into tiny, bloody pieces._

_So you've just got this all sown up, right? _he angrily shot at her.

_I have been planning this for over two thousand years, Sam. It's hard for things to not fall in place when you've thought about all the contingencies. _

_Except for that whole free will part, right? That could still fuck you guys up. And what if Dean figures it out that you're the seal and not him? He's ten times smarter than any of you fuckers give him credit for._

_You think Dean is gonna run and hide when I'm barbequing everyone he knows? His kid is dead because of me. I think we both know him well enough by now that he isn't gonna run. He's gonna come at me with everything he's got._

And he couldn't argue with her on that. Dean wouldn't run when other people's lives were at stake because that's just how his brother was wired. His stolen heart broke a little more thinking of the nephew he never got to know. The son Dean never got to be a father to.

_Dean would've been a great dad_, he thought, remembering all the sacrifices his brother had made for him over the years. He was rudely reminded how non-private his thoughts were.

_Oh, don't go getting all weepy you wimp. Boo-freaking-hoo. That is one kid out of millions that is dead on my orders. He was nothing._

_I'll kill you, you bitch._

_You can't,_ she taunted him. They flashed out of the town they were in and landed in another one. He didn't even know where they were half the time. Lilith rounded a corner and headed down a busy street packed with people lined up outside of bars waiting to get in. She waltzed up to the front of the line, ignoring shouts from the ones in line. She jedi-ed the doorman and walked right in. Making a slow circle around the club, she settled at the bar and ordered a beer. She didn't pay – she never did. Taking a swig she turned and locked eyes with a dark haired girl at a near-by table.

_That one looks like Ruby's host, doesn't she?_ Lilith prodded him.

_Go to hell_.

_Been there, _she sang_. Let's see if this one is as much a demon in the sack as Ruby is_, she smirked.

He groaned.

* * *

One more soul to add to Lucifer's collection downstairs. The dark haired girl hadn't taken much convincing to leave the bar. She seemed lonely, like she had just broken up with someone, which is probably another reason why Lilith targeted her. But the girl, Shauna, had responded to the lavish attention from the big stranger, and left with them after Lilith's standard line of, '_I'll give you the best night of your life if you give me your soul._' People had no idea what they were agreeing to, and the lawyer in him was frustrated at the demon laws. They didn't have to fully disclose themselves to their victims. It was a sport with no catch and release clause.

He had tried to close himself off from Lilith's conquest, but he could feel everything. He felt betrayed by the body he couldn't control. Violated.

_Well, she was no Ruby_, Lilith laughed as they walked away from a red-eyed Shauna. _Still… not hard on the eyes, hmmm?_

He ignored her, trying to shut himself off from the outside world where he wasn't in control of his body. Where it wasn't his hands that were stained with blood, and it wasn't his body coercing innocent women into giving away their souls. He was angry and frustrated at his helplessness. He was stuck in here, and the only person he could talk to was the one responsible for the whole mess.

_You know_, Lilith spoke. _You should really be thanking me; I taught Ruby everything she knows. You did enjoy your time with her didn't you? Of course you did. She was such an innocent when I found her, but by the time I was done? Wow. She was so screwed when we offered her help, and she made the deal, and she became mine when I offered her a way off the rack. She is completely devoted to me, and she'll lead your brother to me as surely as she led you to the blood._

_Bitch_.

_Hey, it's not my fault you humans are so easy to manipulate. People like you will do exactly what you want them to, if you know how to set the stage properly._

_You really like to hear yourself talk, huh?_

_Dean_, she said in a Darth-Vader-evil-voice. _You are the last seal. I will kill you_. Lilith laughed. _And you jumped right in front of the spell to save him! Your 'Free Will' is what landed you in this mess. Oh,_ she giggled, _Hollywood can't write it any better. You are both so gullible! You two are so paranoid that you were convinced that everyone is against you and that the angels turned on you._

_You mean they didn't?_

_Well… most of them did_, she conceded. _There are only a few that are devoted wholly to God and who resisted the defecting. They were put in prison until Lucifer breaks free. He'll need an all protein diet when he gets outta the joint to get his strength up. He'll consume their power first._

_Castiel?_

_He'll be a mid-morning snack_, she smirked. _You know, none of this was supposed to happen. When God laid out the rules for this whole biblically divine chess game, he never thought his angels would align themselves with the likes of me. God thought he was so clever… so above everything. He never saw Lucifer's resentment towards his precious humans as the cancer it really was. The other angels were angry, and the cancer festered and spread. And without God at the helm, the whole ship went down. It was an angel that approached me!_

_Who was it?_ he asked, because as much as his thoughts were out in the open, Lilith could keep hers to herself. He was just lucky she liked to talk so much. She got off on taunting him.

_What does it matter? You're not going to be able to pass it on to that brother of yours. As far as he knows, he's been abandoned, and the only ones on his side is an old man and a demon on my payroll. Life's a bitch, huh?_

* * *

Lawrence, Kansas.

When Ben awoke again, it was to find him and Ruby in deep conversation. He seemed calmer this time, which was a relief considering how freaked he was earlier. Not that he blamed him; the poor kid. Missouri had told him what she felt when she held Ben's hand. No one should have to know that kind of evil and pain, and it shook him to the core that this boy did.

Ben sat up, rubbing his eyes and looking confusedly at Ruby.

"Hello, Ben," she said gently. "I'm Ruby."

"You're the one that saved me from the spell," he said groggily.

"Dean helped too, but yeah… I am."

"Thank you."

"Ben," Dean said, wanting to distract the boy. "Why don't you go into the kitchen and see if Missouri has anything for you to eat. She said before that you'll need food to get your strength back."

"'Kay," he mumbled. He was pretty sure the boy was uneasy in his presence. Again, not that he blamed him. Ben fumbled out of the blanket covering him, and wandered into the kitchen where Missouri was pounding herbs. Bobby had gone upstairs to sleep hours ago, and hadn't been heard of since if you discounted the occasional loud snore that drifted down the steps.

"How is he?" she asked as her eyes followed the child out of the room.

"Shook up. Scared. Angry. You name it." He rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He had a headache the size of Vikings linebacker, and the only thing he knew that would dull the pain was the whole-sale rack of the nearest liquor store.

"How about you?" she questioned him, narrowing her eyes.

"The same." He didn't feel like a heart to heart at the moment.

"Does he know about Sam?"

"We told him that a monster took Sam's body and made him do the awful things he did. Whether he believes it or not, I don't know. He's not trying to jump outta the window though, so that's a move in the right direction."

"Does he know about me? Does he know what I am?"

"I only told him that you pulled the curse outta him. He doesn't know anything else."

Ruby got up and headed towards the kitchen.

"Hey! Where are you going?" he demanded. She didn't answer him; she just glided into the neat little kitchen with the butcher-block table. Missouri was standing at the counter, holding a large knife over a stack of sandwiches.

"Hello, Ruby," Missouri said tensely. Her hand gripped the handle of the knife in her hand so hard that her knuckles turned white – little use the blade would do her against the demon though.

"Hello, Missouri," Ruby spoke with the utmost politeness. "Missouri, Dean has a massive headache. Do you have any angelica root, yarrow seed and pork-fat?"

"Who told you…?" he cut in, wondering how she knew his brain was about two sizes too large for his skull.

"I do," Missouri interrupted him. She went to a cupboard. "Do you want the angelica root whole or powdered?"

"Powdered. Same with the yarrow seed."

"There's bacon in the fridge, will that do for the pork-fat?"

"It'll be perfect. Thank you."

Clearly, Missouri wanted to see what sort of remedy Ruby could cook up and was trying her best to be civil to the demon. And since the medium didn't seem perturbed at any of the ingredients, he relaxed a bit. Besides… Bacon? Sweet.

Ruby rummaged in the fridge and came out with the pack of bacon. Missouri placed a skillet on the stove for her and went back to cutting up her sandwiches. While Ruby fried the bacon, and the mouthwatering scent drifted across the kitchen, Missouri placed the plate of sandwiches in front of him and Ben.

"Go on, Love. Dig in," she smiled at the boy, encouraging him to eat by picking up a triangle herself. Ben copied her, seeming a little easier around the psychic than he had around just him. Dean didn't begrudge the calming factor Missouri held over his son. Anyone that could give the kid some measure of comfort was welcome to.

He distractedly picked up half a sandwich, eyeing the sizzling bacon almost lustfully. Taking a bite of too-much-mayo turkey sandwich, he asked, "So what's with the bacon?"

Ruby laughed. "You ever wonder why when you feel like crap, a greasy breakfast picks you right up?"

"You mean the sure-fire hangover cure?"

"That's the one. The bacon grease in the breakfast has an unscientifically proven affect on your brain." She lifted the bacon out of the pan and placed it on some paper towels to blot. She lifted the plate over and put it in front of him and Ben, and both reached hungrily for it.

_That's my boy_.

Missouri was standing at the counter crushing yarrow seed with a pestle and mortar, eyeing the proceedings and watching the demon carefully. Dean was pretty confident that the old woman was watching to make sure the demon didn't try any funny business. He was glad the psychic had his back regardless.

Ruby took a small glass bowl and added a spoonful of the grease to it. Sprinkling some angelica root on top, and gracefully taking the mortar from Missouri, she dumped the yarrow seed in the mixture, stirring it into a thick paste. She grabbed a plastic tumbler with her fingertips and filled it with hot water from the tap. Walking to the table with the water and glass bowl, she set both in front of him. Ben was watching her with rapt fascination, and she turned towards him while picking up the glass bowl of grease and herbs. Her eyes went black as she passed her hand over the top of the bowl and said a short incantation of Latin. Ben shot back in his chair, nearly toppling over in an effort to get away from her but Dean grabbed his wrist.

"It's okay Ben. She's on our side." He was furious at Ruby for revealing herself to him like that, but he had to show the kid that Ruby wasn't one of the bad guys and freaking on her right now wasn't the way to do that. "So do I just eat this?" he asked angrily, picking up the spoon and some of the mixture glopped off the spoon and back into the bowl.

Missouri came to stand behind Ben, placing her hands on his shoulders and whispering, "Its okay, Sweetheart."

"Just a spoonful of the mixture, followed by the whole glass of hot water." Her eyes were still ink black, and she never took them off Ben. The kid looked like he was about to piss himself in fear, but he swallowed thickly and eyed her back.

_Kid's brave_, he thought, digging the spoon into the bowl and putting it in his mouth.

_Uggh. Bacon is better than this crap_.

"The hot water," she reminded him crisply. So he downed the whole tumbler to rid his mouth of the greasy-ass-and-ashtray taste in his mouth.

Ruby blinked and her eyes went back to their dark brown. "How do you feel?"

"I feel…" His head was actually not pounding out the opening riff of '_Crazy Train_' anymore. "I feel… better." He released his grip on Ben's wrist, and he saw Missouri move from holding Ben's shoulders to patting his head reassuringly.

Ruby crouched next to Ben so that she had to look up to see into his eyes. "I'm sorry I scared you, Ben. I take it you saw some people at your house whose eyes were all black?"

"Yes," he whimpered, and Dean felt a renewed anger at the demoness for the way she came outta the closet on this one.

"Those people were demons, Ben. They were demons who stole into people's bodies just like the monster that took your Uncle Sam."

"You're a demon too?" he whispered, his voice trembling.

"I am, but I'm not like the others. The others are trying to do bad things, and I'm helping Dean and Bobby to stop them."

"So you're a good demon?"

Ruby shook her head. "I've done bad things, Ben. I've done very bad things. But I'm trying to do what's right." She reached out and tentatively took Ben's hand. The kid flinched, but didn't pull away.

_The kid's real brave_, he thought as he watched.

"I want to tell you something, Ben. I don't make promises very often, and your dad and Missouri will tell you that when a demon makes you a deal, they have to keep it." She waited for Ben to look to him and Missouri for reassurance. Both nodded and he looked back to the demon kneeling before him. Ruby continued. "I promise you, Ben Braedon, son of Dean and Lisa, that I will never hurt you."

* * *

He hadn't heard any curses directed at him from Dean in some time. It made him nervous and he didn't like the feeling one bit. But he was certain that Dean was still alive. He knew it down to his _grace_ that he would feel it if Dean perished. The bond they had between them ensured that. The burn mark on Dean's shoulder in the shape of _his_ hand ensured that. Not that there was much chance of one of the demons killing the sarcastic hunter. The demons were leading Dean on a wild goose chase, luring him towards Lilith like a moth to the flame. And he would burn as surely as the hapless moth.

And once he killed her, Lucifer would be free.

He glanced around the crowded cell. There were more angels that had been incarcerated since he arrived at the hands of the traitor, Zachariah. There were more than twenty of them now. A paltry number compared to the army that had sided with Lucifer.

"These are only the ones that found out what the others were up to," Anna had tried to reassure him. "We have to believe that most of our brothers and sisters are ignorant of what is happening. That they will join us when the Dark Angels reveal their hand."

"Join us?" Nyan cackled cynically. "Do you have a plan to get out of this cell that you have neglected to tell us, young Anna?"

She didn't have an answer to that. She only pursed her lips into a tight line and turned away. He wanted to comfort her in some way, as the humans she loved so dearly would have done, but he had no comfort to offer anyone, let alone himself.

Nyan's words continued to haunt him. The rules for the immense task laid out in front of them all. Free will. Everything hinged on God's greatest gift to the humans; and that they would make the right decisions. Nyan had called it a chess game, and it didn't really seem much different to Castiel. There were intricate rules, and pieces could only move certain ways. The wizened angel had recited the rules to them all. One: they could not directly kill off members of the opposite team to take their bodies and use them to their designs. So a demon or angel could not possess Dean outright and make him kill Lilith and break the seal. Two: all the actions had to be performed by the humans. One of Lilith's demons could not kill her on her demand and break the final seal. Three: The angels were forbidden to kill Lucifer and vice-versa. Again, the impossible task had to fall on the humans whom his father had so much faith in. Each side had their pawns. Lucifer had the demons, and the angel had the humans. But demons had free will just like the humans since they were at one point human. So while a demon could switch sides and serve heaven's purposes, it was more likely that a human would side with Lucifer.

Castiel had to wonder how much his father really loved his human children to put them at such risk. A human had to kill Lucifer? How would that even be possible? The humans were frail creatures. Granted, he had witnessed incredible things during his time among the Winchesters, but the vast majority of humans did not have that streak of raw strength and determination. They were truly rare individuals to walk the earth.

But his mind kept returning to the impossible. How could a human defeat Lucifer? Nyan had had an answer to that. Buried in the vaults of knowledge, along with the rules to the deadly game now in play on Earth, was a scroll written in ancient Enochian. This scroll described a blade forged by God himself. This blade, this '_Hand of God_' was a tool that could only be wielded by a human deemed worthy, and any others that dared to touch it would turn to dust immediately. When Castiel inquired where this weapon was, Nyan could only shake his withered head in defeat.

"It was hidden by Our Father. It was the last time He was ever seen in heaven – when He left to hide the blade on Earth. I think He was ashamed of how the others had acted… you know… when Lucifer fell. He was heartsick that his son had defied him; that He'd had to have him imprisoned. It might have been kinder to have killed him outright instead of letting him fester in his cell. But He had Michael cast him out. It is said that Michael enjoyed it but I don't know if I believe that. Michael loved his brother despite their differences. It was a terrible task for God to place on Michael's shoulders, but if Michael was to be fit to lead the Host, it was a lesson in the hard decisions of leadership. Our Father always favored hard lessons."

"Do you know what it looked like?" he asked. Nyan leaned forward and pressed his fingers to his forehead. An image of a plain silver knife filled his mind's eye. There was a blue jewel embedded in the end of the haft that shone and glittered and made him catch his breath.

"The '_Eye of God_'," Nyan said, sensing what had grabbed his attention. "The stone is supposed to house untold power. The 'Wrath of God' as it were."

"So there was nothing in the vaults on where God hid this weapon?"

Nyan shook his head. "There was only the mention of it could only be reached by the human deemed worthy. Other than that, only God knows where it is."


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: Kripke's toys, my sandbox. Thanks for letting me play.

**Chapter 11**

"_So there was nothing in the vaults on where God hid this weapon?"_

_Nyan shook his head. "There was only the mention of it could be reached only by the worthy human. Other than that, only God knows where it is."_

* * *

**Present Day:**

Jenna half dragged her left leg behind her. Her shoulder had been on fire since she pulled herself out of the lake and the combined dull, constant pain was a reminder that she wasn't dead yet. She was alive, but she wasn't making good time back to the ledge where she last saw Marcus and Bear. She'd been walking along the meager deer trail for hours, but the dense forest and black night sky wasn't co-operating with her.

She'd tried her cell phone to reach Marcus, but the dip in the lake fried it. She probably wouldn't have had any signal in the mountains anyway, but she was nearly out of her skin with worry. She had to know he was okay. The last she saw him as she was spirited away, was the remaining vulture woman had sent him flying and was jumping on him. And the last she saw Bear, he was falling to the trees below. She shuddered at the memory of his terrified yips echoing off the Rockies.

Hope. She had to have hope. Marcus was too stubborn, too tough… too _instrumental_ to her very being to not have made it through the battle on the ledge.

She could see glimpses of it through the trees now, a homing beacon if ever there was one. The early gray light of dawn was cresting the tree line behind her, casting an almost ecclesiastical light on the ridge ahead of her. Renewed strength filled her and she pressed on. Another pain-filled hour and she was nearing the base of the cliff. The sun was above the horizon now, pale gold glowed across the sky, replacing the gray.

A sharp caw to her right made her stop in her tracks. She slowly pulled the small silver knife from her boot. It was the only weapon she had on her anymore and she gripped it tightly in her hand. Easing through the thick foliage, wincing at the twigs snapping under her boots, she scanned the still dark woods in front on her. She heard the caw again, and saw the flutter of black wings near the ground.

A cry came unbidden to her throat and her hands flew to her mouth as she recognized the dark shape under the scavenging crow.

"Bear," she whispered, tears burning her eyes at the still figure of the animal she loved. "Oh, God. Bear." She charged into the underbrush, screaming at the crow that dared to desecrate the fallen warrior. The bird took off with an indignant squawk, leaping into the air and lighting on a low hanging branch.

She dropped to her knees, the pain in her legs and shoulders forgotten as she fell on the dog. Her hands danced over his long hair, searching, searching for signs of life and grief burst through as she found none. There was no response from the giant dog and she broke a little more knowing that she would never wake up to him snuffling at her ear again.

She cried. She stayed there, sprawled next to Bear and arms clutching at his massive shape as racking sobs rippled through her.

Gone. He was gone. And there was only one reason why Bear was down here, not having already been salted and burned by Marcus. And that was because Marcus was unable to get to him. Every instinct she had was telling her to make a field stretcher out of saplings and drag Bear's heavy body behind her until she found Marcus, because she couldn't bear the thought of leaving the animal behind. But the kind yet more practical voice of Bobby Singer told her '_There's nothing you can do for him now. You have to find Marcus. He needs you._'

Swiping at her eyes with her still wet sleeve, she stood up. She couldn't just leave him here untended to because when she found Marcus, he would need her to take him to the hospital and she would be unable to come back for Bear before the crows and other forest animals got to him and she couldn't bear that. So she hurriedly collected dried bracken and dead-fall from the forest floor, making a pile next to the dog's body. Fingers shaking, she slipped his tags from his collar and put them into her pocket. Grunting at the effort to drag the heavy dog onto the pyre, she managed to move him to the top of the pile. There was a small can of lighter fluid in the zippered pocket of her wet coat – they had brought it with them so that they could burn the body of the werewolf they'd been hunting. Pulling the small red plastic stopper from the nozzle, she emptied the contents over Bear and his pyre. Feeling like she was committing the most heinous crime, she pulled her zippo from her pocket and struck the wheel. The trusty lighter flared to life despite its swim earlier, and she crouched to light the Dead-Man's-Beard covering the branches. The lichen smoldered and caught, and she circled the pyre, working the flames and blowing on some to encourage them to grow. Black smoke started drifting up as the smaller twigs and lighter fluid finally caught fire. Shifting them around, the larger pieces smoldered into flame and within ten minutes, there was dancing light surrounding the shaggy black body.

Black smoke began to billow upwards and as the first scent of burning hair reached her nose she collapsed and cried some more. She covered her eyes with her hands and wept, unable to watch the brave dog's funeral. And as much as she hated herself for it, she got up and started walking for the cliff, leaving the fire burning behind her and sobbing for the friend that was gone. Bear was gone, but Marcus needed her.

She knew it.

She paced at the foot of the ledge trying to spot a way up other than hiking back down the mountain, through the woods, and then back up once she was able to reach the path they had followed the night before. That would take too long and she didn't have that kind of time; she needed up on that ledge.

Finally deciding there was no way around it, she started scrambling her way up the rock face. Using anything she could for a hand or foothold, she pulled her small frame up the rocks. She didn't dare look down – there was only up. A few times, her foot slipped and she had to scrabble for dear life to keep from sliding back down the wall. She stopped to rest whenever she needed to, she could help no one if she plummeted to her death. Her damaged shoulders were already on fire from the vulture bitch's talons, but this exertion might prove to be too much for her. She tried to think of Marcus. She tried to draw strength from the image in her mind of him smiling and laughing. A quick image of him playing tug with Bear made her gasp with raw pain and she nearly slipped. Pressing herself against the rock, she waited for her heart to stop pounding and her hands to stop trembling. How much of that trembling was from grief, and how much from the trials of the last several hours, she didn't know; she didn't really want to analyze that right now. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she pulled upwards.

She didn't immediately realize when she reached the crest. All of a sudden, her hand reached the top and she had to reach even deeper to find the strength to haul herself over the lip of the ridge. She lay facedown on the trail, gasping for breath and shaking all over. She honestly wanted to throw up over the edge but the thought of looking down to see how high she climbed made her feel a little faint. She rolled over onto her back and closed her eyes against the sun so that she didn't have to look at the black column of curling smoke that was Bear's funeral pyre.

It took several minutes before she felt like her legs would support her and she stood. She wobbled, and she went down to one knee, but after taking another set of deep breaths, she stood again. This time, her vision went dark for a second and then cleared. She managed to stay on her feet though, so she started shuffling up the trail. She tried not to think about how much she hurt – the mental and the physical. She also tried not to think about how thirsty she was. She brought the sleeve of her coat to her mouth and tried to suck some of the residual moisture out of it, but the canvas coat was nearly dry now. She trudged on, not sure how far she had to go before she would come to the place where they were ambushed, but certain that it was up the trail and not down.

She rounded a bend in the trail some minutes later, recognizing an awkward looking tree that jutted out over the trail, and her heart leapt into her throat.

_It was here!_

She sped up, scanning the trees and the path for signs of Marcus. She saw her M&P on the ground and raced to pick it up. It was empty, but the familiar weight of it in her hand was reassuring. She spotted her large knife a few yards away from where her gun landed, and she picked it up too.

Feeling a little less vulnerable, she continued forward, eyes continually scanning and on the lookout. She hadn't heard a hawk's cry since the two beasts flew over her the night before, but they could have come back without her knowing. They could be prowling the trees and watching her every move. She didn't dare to call out, and walked as quietly as possible over the dirt trail, cursing her army boots for crunching so loudly.

It was as she came around a giant boulder that she saw a familiar boot sticking out from the foliage. Forgetting to be stealthy, forgetting everything she'd ever been taught, she rushed forward.

"Marcus! Marcus!" She skid into the dirt, falling on him and sprawling over his blood-soaked chest. She pushed the ferns back to reveal his face, and got a horrific glance of the carnage that used to be his neck.

"Oh, God! Marcus!" She roughly patted his cheek, trying to get some reaction from him, even though she knew it was impossible. No one could survive that level of injury.

There was nothing. His eyes were closed and his skin was cold. The man she loved more than life was gone and everything that was left in her broke at that moment. If she thought she had no more tears after finding Bear, she was beyond wrong. It seemed there was no end to the tears when your life was shattered for the second time. Marcus didn't look too different from the mutilated corpse of her mom, although, it didn't look as if the beast had fed on Marcus, un-like the zombies that had fed on her parents.

She didn't know how long she crouched there, sobbing and wailing into his bloodied shirt, not caring if the creatures were near-by. Not caring if they were behind her at that moment and about to swoop down on her and carry her off again. Nothing mattered. She had nothing. Everything in her life that was worth living for had died up on this lonely mountain and she was more alone now than she ever had been before.

The sound of a snapping twig made her look up. Expecting to see a vulture-bitch, she was taken by surprise to see a young man with shaggy hair, limping on an injured leg. There was dried blood on his torn pants, and it was clear he was frightened.

"Help me," he pleaded, shuffling forward. It was then that he saw Marcus's dead body and he froze. "Oh my God," he breathed. "Oh my God!"

It was the werewolf they had been hunting. The reason they had been up on this god-forsaken mountain in the first place was standing not twenty feet from her, staring gape-mouthed at the body of the man who had come up here to kill him; and found death himself.

Anger boiled up from the pit of her shattered soul. This man was the reason why they were here. If not for him and his disease, if not for him and his killing spree, they would have been nowhere near this place. Marcus would be waking up next to her in some cheap motel, or in the back of the truck where they slept when they didn't have the money for a room. Bear would be snoring in her ear, his legs twitching as he ran in his dreams and kicking her in the shins. If not for this man… her world would not have stopped turning.

"I-I… I don't know how I got here…" he stammered, taking another step closer. Werewolves never remembered what they did when they were changed. The human was innocent, but the disease he carried made him a mindless killing machine once a lunar cycle. She knew this – it didn't change how she felt. "I was trying to get back down the mountain and… and I heard you."

She could only stare at him as the injustice of it all washed over her. Bear and Marcus were dead, and this monster was still alive.

"What happened to him?" he indicated towards Marcus, shuffling another step closer. She felt the edges of her vision narrow and blacken. She felt her heart thudding noisily against her ribs like a caged animal as her hand drifted automatically towards the bulge in Marcus's front pocket where his spare magazine was stashed. She wasn't afraid – she was furious.

"Was it a bear or something…?" He was starting to look a little more frightened. It was probably because she was staring at him so stonily, despite the tear stains down her face.

She turned her body, and used it as a shield as she ejected the empty magazine and slid in the fresh one. Eleven mixed rounds, the first one silver. She felt the young man stiffen as he heard the magazine click into place.

"What the – ?"

She stood quickly, leveling the M&P on his chest and glaring at him with all the anger and grief her broken heart had left.

"Do you know what you are?" she demanded.

"What…? I don't… what are you talking about?"

"Of course you don't."

"Put that down! What are you doing?" He was backing up rapidly now, hands up in front of him like he was under arrest or something.

"You're a werewolf," she stated baldly, advancing on him.

"There's no such thing! You're crazy!"

"Right on one count." She stepped slowly and deliberately to the side, keeping her gun pointed on him. "You are a werewolf. You've killed people. You probably read about it in the local newspapers and bought into the crap about animal attacks. The papers didn't publish that the victim's hearts were missing from their remains. Tell me, have you woken up with blood on your hands and clothes? Have you woken up and not remembered the night before?"

"How – how did you know…?" If possible, his eyes went wider and he looked even more scared. He moved to the side some more, trying to get some distance between them. Like that would make any difference to a bullet.

"You didn't do this to him," she gestured at Marcus's prone form, "but you're the reason why we were up here in the first place. You and your disease is why we were up on this fucking mountain, chasing your murdering ass. You're the reason why he's dead. You're the reason why everyone is dead!"

"No, no please. You're wrong!" He was standing in front of the ledge now, and there was no emotion in her at all as she squeezed the trigger.

She got him on the left side of the chest, rocking him on his feet, and she saw the terrified look in his eyes as he stumbled backwards into nothingness.

* * *

She was racing down the Interstate in hers and Marcus's old blue '86 Ford Ranger, the smell of smoke still heavy in her nostrils even hours after the fact. She was not crying any longer. She wondered if she finally reached the bottom of that well and that she would never cry again. She didn't think she would ever become close enough to another person to feel like crying for them – she was on borrowed time and she knew it. There were two vulture creatures out there that had to pay for what they did. There were two monsters that had to be stopped from killing again.

She clasped a hand around the dog-tags she'd taken from the former marine recruit's ruined neck before she burned him. She didn't even bother wiping off the blood on the beaded chain, choosing to leave it there as a further reminder of what she had to do.

She needed help. Not to kill the things; that she would do on her own. But she needed help to figure out what they were and how to bring them down. She doubted she would be able to lure them into a lake and to their deaths, but there had to be another way to kill them. She would have called Bobby, but her cell was fucked, and Marcus's had been broken during his last fight. The old man was constantly changing phones, which was one of the cons of the job, and she had no idea how to reach him. And she knew he was doing a job in the east, so she couldn't just go to his house for help. She wondered if those creatures were part of the '_big trouble brewing_' that Singer had mentioned to her a few weeks ago when he called her and told her and Marcus to be extra careful.

Not having a chance to talk to Bobby left her with one alternative that she didn't like much, but that didn't matter right now. Revenge and justice were paramount, and her rivalry with Clair Rivera didn't even register anymore. In fact, she was betting on that sour connection they shared so that the psychic would help her. She couldn't blame the woman for admiring Marcus – he had been so handsome and brutally charming when he needed to be. No. She blamed her for actively pursuing him knowing that they were together.

But that was all gone now. Gone like Marcus and Bear and her family. She dreaded having to Call Marcus's mother, Estelle, to tell her the news. She would have preferred to go to the old woman's home and hug her and let her sob on her shoulder. But she and Marcus hadn't seen Estelle Wells since the murder of their families. It was Estelle's idea for them to run away in the first place. The circumstances of the murders would have pointed a finger at her and Marcus – an inter-racial couple in an intolerant town – and Estelle would not see her son on death row. So they ran. They called her regularly, but they stayed away for her safety. Now she would have to call her secondary mother and tell her that another one of her sons was dead. Her heart clenched tightly at the thought of spreading her despair.

She fingered the dog-tags around her neck again as she zipped past the slower moving traffic. It was fitting to have Bear's tags hanging with Marcus's, next to the silver chain that held her mother's wedding ring.

If she had any more vendetta's to collect on, it would probably snap her neck under the weight of her responsibilities.

But it didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore but revenge and retribution.

_(- - Heart's Grown Cold, by Nazareth - -)_

* * *

**Ten Days Ago:**

Ruby ghosted through the room, silent as creeping death. Bobby was snoring loudly, his mouth thrown wide open and one arm draped over the edge of the bed. She was thankful for the small miracle that the old man didn't sleep in the buff because that was a mental image she didn't need. She crouched near the bed, her demon senses heightened, seeing more clearly in the dark than any human could. The elder hunter's jeans were on the floor next to the bed, and in the pocket was the prize she was after. Slipping her slim fingers into the pocket, she fished out the small black cell phone. Standing, she turned on the spot and was in Chicago with half a thought. While she had told the hunters the truth about being bound to this body, she hadn't told them she could still travel in demonic first class. She wasn't about to share that information.

The heels of her boots clicked smartly as she walked up the dark street. The human cretins out at this late hour watched her pass. Most seemed to sense the hidden predator, and left her alone. The one stupid human who thought she would be an easy mark to score the money for his next hit was sorely mistaken when he tried to grab her and ended up pinned to the wall by the small brunette, holding him up by the throat with one hand. She let her eyes go jet black, and she saw the fear in the human as he pissed himself. The smell of the urine was sharp and acrid; disgusting as the filth she had trapped under her palm.

"One flick of my wrist, and I could snap your neck," she whispered. "Do you believe me?" Her captive grunted, unable to speak or even breathe with the way she was holding him. "Get out of my sight. If I see you again, I'll kill you." She tossed him away from her as easily as one tosses a dirty shirt into a hamper.

"Go," she ordered him. "GO!" The human scrambled to find his feet, and took off down the alley, looking over his shoulder continually to make sure she wasn't chasing after him. She huffed and rolled her eyes at the retreating human before continuing on her way.

She continued down the street, zeroing in on an energy signal she was finely tuned to. She stopped in front of the affluent, locked glass doors of an office building. There was a security guard on duty behind the desk. He was reading a magazine and not watching the monitors.

"Working late, Marty? Tsk, tsk."

She turned on the spot, disappearing in the night, and re-emerged on an upper floor of the building. She could smell the stink of humans permeating through the whole building, but she was looking for a stench in particular.

She walked silently over the industrial carpet of the office, desks and cubicles dark and empty. There was one man here though – he was always here after hours. She had done many favors for this human, and he returned them when she needed his services. It was a strained relationship to say the least, but one that worked. He didn't know what she really was. She assumed he thought she was some sort of ultimate-super-assassin or something, with the way she could get past any security undetected. If he feared her for that reason instead of the real one…well… all the better.

The glow from a computer screen illuminated a cubical along the far wall. The shadow of a man in front of that screen made silhouettes dance on the drop ceiling. She could see an on-line gambling game on the screen – the source of this human's problems.

"Hello, Marty," she said softly. The human jumped and turned in his seat, clutching at his chest.

"Christ, Ruby. You'll give a guy heart failure!" He looked at her then, seeing the dark bruises on her face that were a parting gift from that bastard Connor and his cronies. She could still smell the blood of Cassie Robinson and her boyfriend clinging to her nasal passages. "Fuck. What happened to you?"

Ignoring him, "Am I interrupting something?" she gestured at the screen and the animated cards floating on a green background.

"No. No, not at all." Marty hurriedly minimized the screen and turned back to her. "So what brings you by, Ruby?"

"I am in need of your talents." She pulled Bobby's cell phone out of her pocket and started scrolling down the contacts list. She stopped when she saw a familiar looking name and turned the screen towards the hacker. "I need to find out where this person is. I want you to hack into the service provider and tell me where the most recent calls have been made."

"Okie dokey." Marty reached for the phone and jotted the number on a notepad next to him. He turned to his computer, opened a fresh browser and his fingers started flying over the keys. For all his faults, Marty was a firewall's worst nightmare. She sat down on the top of a desk across the isle from Marty, legs swinging back and forth as she waited. She could smell the human's fear and apprehension in the air; she liked that he was afraid of her – it made him honest.

Over ten minutes later, Marty leaned back in his chair. "I've got the last call, two hours ago, outside Albuquerque."

She slid off her perch on the desk and leaned over his shoulder to glance at the blinking dot on the map on the screen. "That should work. Thanks, Marty. Do you have payment in mind, or do you wanna bank this one?"

"Actually…" he mumbled, "… I have a bit of a dept with a loan establishment."

"You haven't been able to get a real loan in years, Sweetheart," she rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. "What loan shark did you go to?"

"His name is Tirique. I'm in for nearly four grand and he's pushing for payment."

"And where do I find this Tirique?"

Marty scrawled an address on a sticky note and handed it to her, not meeting her eyes. This was the cost of using a human to find people; she was reduced to having to clean up their trivial messes. "I'll take care of it. See you around, Marty."

She walked out of the dark office, waiting until she was out of the hacker's sight before she disappeared. Four grand was a steep price to pay for his services, but Marty was too afraid of her to screw her over, and it wasn't as if the money would be coming out of her pocket anyway. She walked down the dark street outside the office building, zeroing in on where she saw the rough looking drug dealers that had let her pass unmolested earlier. She was not about to return their favor.

* * *

She stood outside an all night diner on the outskirts of Albuquerque, looking through the plate glass window from the shadows across the street. She could see a couple inside, coffee and sandwiches in front of them as they spoke. They were an odd pairing. The girl, short and pale; the guy, tall and dark skinned. Both looked like they modeled for the Army/Navy surplus store catalogue. They were speaking in hushed, close-to voices as they hunched over their plates.

Ruby shivered in excitement at finding the lost prize. Connor had screwed up years ago, and he had been severely punished for it. But now, she would reap the rewards for finding the human, and the added bonus of one-upping Connor was sweet on her tongue.

There was an old blue truck directly in front of her. It had a matching cap on the back, and there was a dog in there. The animal was agitated at her presence, pacing and snarling at her from inside the truck bed. She peered in a darkened window, seeing sleeping bags and pillows and inflatable mats. The pair obviously slept in their truck often.

She eyed the giant dog, feeling her eyes go black as he met her gaze and bared his teeth. She went to the tail of the truck, lifting the hatch for the truck cap. The dog lunged at her, but she put up her hand and the dog slid back, hitting the front window with a pained yip. All the other demons assumed she didn't have the '_mojo'_. It was a misconception she didn't want rectified. It made her stronger and more dangerous in her own opinion.

She kept her hand up, forcing the struggling dog against the floor of the truck bed as he slid towards her, pulled by invisible hands. She placed one hand on the dog's shaggy head, and he slumped unconscious on the floor. Wrapping a hand around the dog's tags on his collar, she felt the metal warm and glow in her hand as she imbibed a tracking curse into the metal. She wouldn't be able to approach the humans without notice, but their dog? They were hardly likely to go far without him. The dog would be her homing beacon. She would be able to give the human to Lilith if the need arose – unlike Connor who let his madness and maliciousness get the better of him seven years ago, and lost the prize he was supposed to find.

Her eyes turned black and she grinned. Lilith would be very grateful.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the late posting again guys. Real life slammed me again. I'm hoping to be back on track for posting weekly by next weekend. And before you all flood me with hate mail for killing Bear, the reason this post is so late is because I had to work overtime all weekend so that I could make a dent in my dog's vet bill. Word to the wise, if any of you have dogs, don't keep raisins in the house as they are severely toxic to dogs and can cause kidney failure. Luckily, we caught it in time that he didn't digest anything, and after a weekend getting his kidneys flushed at Chez Animal Emergency, Trigger will be just fine.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: Kripke's toys, my sandbox. Thanks for letting me play.

**Chapter 12**

_The dog would be her homing beacon. She would be able to give the human to Lilith if the need arose – unlike Connor who let his madness and maliciousness get the better of him seven years ago, and lost the prize he was supposed to find._

_Her eyes turned black and she grinned. Lilith would be very grateful._

* * *

**Nine Days Ago:**

"We need to go on the offensive," Ruby stated baldly.

"And how the hell are we supposed to do that?" Bobby growled at her from his place on the opposite side of the table.

"And with what weapons?" Dean shot at her. The fact that he lost the knife to Connor was a bitter lump at the back of his throat.

"We can't sit here, letting Lilith up the body count while we stay a step behind!"

"But how do we fight them off?" Bobby was pissed, scared, and stretched to his limit. Not un-like himself. Since Ruby had come out of her coma-like state the other day, she became more and more like her old, arrogant self. He had found her early that morning sitting on the front step with a cup of coffee, a self-satisfied look on her face. It was immediately afterwards that she called them into the kitchen for an impromptu meeting.

"Well, while you two princesses were getting your beauty sleep, I came up with a plan."

"And what would that be?"

"We start fighting back. We stop trailing behind, mopping up the blood trail."

"How, damn it!" Dean slapped his hand on the table top making the mugs of coffee jitter. "We've got nothing!"

"You two have gotten really dependant on the toys you've lost. How the hell did you survive hunting demons before you had the Colt or my knife?"

"By the skin of our teeth, that's how," Bobby grunted.

"Well you're not fighting alone now," she smirked. "You've got me to up the ante."

"And how is having an excommunicated demon on our side gonna help us?"

"I can still feel demon energy when it's near. I can still fight."

"So what's your plan?" he leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table.

Ruby leaned towards him. "We start zeroing in on demonic omens. We find a demon and make him tell us where Connor is holed up and we find the bastard."

"Why would we want to find Connor? It's Lilith we should be after."

"Connor has the knife," she said simply. "He's not about to give up something that will give him his deepest desire."

"And what would that be?" Bobby asked, not having heard what Ruby had told the younger hunter before.

"Me."

"You?" Bobby had the sort of disbelieving tone of voice he'd have if Dean told him he wanted to dress in drag and start a pole dancing career in downtown Lawrence.

"Connor wants me dead more than you can imagine. He won't turn over that knife until he kills me. Until then, he'll be pinching that thing tighter than Grannies on old age pension check days." Ruby grinned evilly as she took a delicate sip of her coffee. She looked positively pleased with herself.

"And how do we make a random demon tell us where Connor and the knife are? Ask him nicely? Take him some of Missouri's peach cobbler?" The elder hunter's gruff voice dripped with sarcasm.

Ruby turned to Dean. "You and I both know how to make a demon talk. You weren't the only one strapped to a rack in hell."

He shuddered as the memories flooded through him. The images of being on both sides of the rack – the administrator and the recipient.

"So let's just say that we find Connor. How do we get the knife back without getting ourselves killed?" Bobby wasn't about to go blindly down the road Ruby led them towards.

"I'll get it back from him. He won't be able to resist a chance at killing me. If we show up on his doorstep, I will guarantee you that he won't run. He thinks he's tougher than me, and now that he has my knife, he'll do anything he can to kill me. He probably thinks he'll get a big reward for killing the demon outlaw."

"You make yourself sound like Robin Hood," he scoffed at her.

"Green is totally not my color." She looked them both in the eyes. "So what do you say? Do we go and get the knife back and stop this carnival ride? Or do we run and hide and hope the apocalypse doesn't find us?"

"When you put it like that…" Bobby groused and rolled his eyes. Ruby was right. They were shit outta options and unless they struck now, they would continue following the bloody and gory trail to every person he'd ever come into contact with.

"Look, Ruby," Dean muttered, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. "No offence, but how are you gonna take on Connor? You're tough in a fight – I'll give you that – but you aren't exactly brimming with the mojo."

"Hasn't anyone ever told you two the old lie that size doesn't matter?" she quipped.

"No," they both said in unison.

The demon rolled her eyes, "Men," she huffed. "Look… there's another problem…" she trailed off, fingering the rim of her coffee cup.

"And what's that?" Dean asked her, not being able to think of a time she'd ever trailed off in her conversation, and liked what the demon had to say.

"Ben. They'll think he's dead. We have to keep him safe and that's not with us."

That was the big thing that was nagging at him since the kid woke up. He wanted to keep Ben with him, keep him safe – but he wasn't exactly the poster boy for safe and mundane living. They had targets on their backs the size of Hummers, and being with him would put Ben in the line of fire. That was a place he never wanted him to be.

"The boy seems real partial to Missouri, maybe he can stay with her until its safe," Bobby said softly. "Sam would know that you wouldn't come here to Lawrence unless you had a gun to yer head, and if Lilith stole his memories, then there'd be no reason for her to come looking around here. 'Sides, with Missouri's mojo, she'd feel it if anything was coming."

"But other than that, she can't protect him," he replied.

"And who are you to judge my capabilities of looking out for myself, Dean Winchester?" a soft but cross voice said from behind him. He hadn't even heard her come into the kitchen.

_Silent ninja psychic, _he cursed.

"Missouri, I…" He shrank a bit under her dark stare.

"You keepin' that boy with you is like marching him into the jaws of a lion. I've been standing up to the supernatural since long before you were even born, so don't you dare tell me I can't protect myself or that boy!" Missouri put her hands on her ample hips. "Or are you forgetting who helped you free the spirits in your old house? Or are you forgetting who turned on the lights for your daddy after your mama was killed?"

"Missouri - "

"She's right, Dean," Ruby sided with the psychic. "She knows the drill and she knows what's at stake. But this is the apocalypse we're trying to stop. And it's no place for a kid, especially when the kid in question is the son of the man who is the final seal."

He felt like he was being ganged up on when Bobby nodded sagely from beside him.

He _knew_ that Ben had to be kept safe, and he understood that the safest place was _not_ with him, but that didn't make it any easier to swallow that horse pill.

"They already tried to kill 'im once. With us ain't the place to be."

"I know! All right!"

He felt jilted if he wanted to be honest with himself – which he completely didn't want to be. Lisa had hidden Ben from him. Fine. He understood that he had left and didn't leave her a way to contact him weeks later when she found out she was pregnant. That was his fault, and she was left to raise a child on her own. And he understood why she didn't tell him when he showed up at her door last year because, let's face it, he was a whack-job showing up on her doorstep for a nine-year-too-late-booty-call. And he really understood why she didn't tell him after the hunt when she knew what he did for a living, and he brushed her off with his '_that's not my life_' crap anyway. But now that Ben was with him, and things were so crazy and strained, and the poor kid saw his mother _murdered_ – he just wanted to sit in a quiet corner and spend some time trying to get to know the stranger that was his son. Because there was a very real chance that he wouldn't come back from this, and he didn't want Ben thinking he was some dead-beat that didn't care about him. Ruby said that Sam was gone, and that Lilith was just using his body as Sammy-Kevlar, but he couldn't believe it. It went against every cell of his being to think that his little brother was gone. And for that very reason, he doubted he'd be able to kill the bitch wearing Sam's skin – because that would destroy Sam as well. He'd seen it too many times; kill the demon, the host dies too. It was the reason why Lilith had gone to the trouble to snag him in the first place. The human she had to kill to free her boss from his cage, and she was safe and sound as long as she wore the final seal's brother as a shield.

"Dean," Missouri spoke softly, sensing his inner turmoil. "I'll take good care of him for you until you get back."

"And if I don't come back?" he tossed at her, giving a voice to the doubts that plagued him.

"Then I'll still take good care of him for as long as I'm able." She didn't have to say it cuz they all knew what would happen if Dean didn't come back. Lucifer. Death. Armageddon. She would only be able to run for so long before the carnage caught up to her and Ben and they would be killed like the billions of others.

"You know it's the only way, Dean," Ruby almost put a hand on the back of his and thought better of it, pulling back and toying with the handle of her coffee cup.

He sighed heavily, knowing that leaving Ben behind was the only way, but he didn't like the idea of splitting up – he'd never liked splitting up.

* * *

"So you're leaving?" Ben narrowed his eyes at him, pulling the sucker out of his mouth that Missouri had given him and crossing his arms over his thin chest in defiance.

"I'm sorry, Ben. I wish I could stay."

_I want to stay and keep you safe…_

"Yeah, sure you do," he glared at him. A look that black should never be on the face of a kid. Especially his.

"Hey! I mean it! Do you think I want to leave you behind?"

"You seem to be pretty good at it."

"This is dangerous, Ben – and it's no place for a kid!"

"Those things killed my mom!" Ben bellowed, pointing his sucker off to the side as if the demons and Lilith were outside Missouri's kitchen window.

"So it's my job now to keep you safe!"

"By walking out on me again? How many times are you gonna do that?"

"Can you stop blaming me for something I didn't know about? I understand you're angry about everything, but there is no way in hell you are coming with us!" He couldn't believe he was having this argument with a nine year old.

"I can help," he insisted.

"You're a kid."

"How old were you the first time you shot a gun?"

"That is completely different."

_The kid argues like Sam did at his age…_ and his heart clenched at the thought of Ben being like his baby brother. He briefly wondered how many of his traits he'd passed on to the kid. A love for ACDC music was definitely one thing.

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"Ben, they already tried to kill you. They think you're dead, and letting them believe that is the only way to keep you safe."

"You mean it's the only way to keep me outta your hair."

"It's not like that, Ben. There are some very nasty things after me, and anyone near me is in danger."

"Ruby and Bobby are going with you."

"Ruby's a demon, and Bobby has been fighting since before I was born."

"So that's it, huh? You're just laying down the law and that's it."

"That's it."

"Fine. Screw you." He pointed the sucker at him. "I don't need you." Ben made to push past him towards the door when he shot a hand out across his chest to halt him.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Kojak. Where do you think you're going?"

"I'm leaving."

"On your own?"

"If I can't go with you? Yeah."

"Christ, Ben! Do you know what you're saying? You saw what those demons did to your mom." The kid winced and he felt like shit for throwing it in his face like that, but fucking hell, the kid had to understand how dangerous it was out there for him. "Do you think they'll take it easy on you just cuz you're a kid? It will just make it more fun for them! They already tried to kill you once!" Ben's lips tightened into a thin line and a tear started to shine in the corner of his left eye. He realized how much of a bastard he really was when he drove the nail home. "They will torture and kill you right in front of me, just to hurt me. Do you understand that?" Ben's lip quivered and his chin trembled, small fists tight to his sides as he fought not to cry. The kid had more guts than he did cuz he could feel the tears burning behind his eyes and he couldn't hold them back. "I can't go in there and do this job if I don't know you're safe. The demons are planning something really bad – millions of people will die, and millions more after that. Me, Bobby and Ruby are the only ones that can stop it, and they will use you against me if they get the chance. We can't let them win, Ben. We can't."

"Why does it have to be you?" Ben's tears broke free, as if seeing him cry gave the boy permission to do so as well.

"It was always supposed to be me."

Ben swiped at the tears running down his face, and he awkwardly reached out to pull the kid to him, but Ben turned on his heel and ran for the stairs. The heavy lump in his throat kept him from calling out to him to come back and a loud slamming of a door on the second floor put the thing to rest. It was too hard to do this the first time, and trying a second attempt would not go any better. Ben had been through a lot in the last week, things that no one should ever witness, but the boy had. He's seen his mom tortured and killed, he'd been poisoned and next to death, and now, the only person in the world he knew that was supposed to take care of him was running out on him to chase monsters.

_Fucking Father of the Year…_

He scrubbed a hand over his face and tried to smear the tears away, thankful that there hadn't been anyone in the room to witness the botched talk. But with all the shouting, he didn't doubt everyone heard everything anyway. He returned to the kitchen a moment later only to find Ruby, Bobby and Missouri making a half hearted attempt at a disjointed conversation.

Not wanting to have to talk about it, he noticed there was an open laptop on the table so he asked, "Any leads to follow?"

"There's a lot of demon omens in Tulsa," Ruby offered. "That many omens means a gathering of some sort. Good chance of finding out where Connor is with my knife."

"Sweet. Sound's good. When do we leave?"

Ruby quirked an eyebrow at him, clearly thinking he was a little out of it for wanting to get back on the job so quickly. "As soon as we can I guess. Are you sure you want to go so quick?"

"Yeah. Stopping the apocalypse is a bit of an imposing deadline."

"Alright. A couple hours to get some supplies underway and we can head out."

"What do you need me to get?"

"I guess you could go into town and go to the hardware store. We need some bags of road salt and a couple cans of spray paint," Bobby said, giving him the same look Ruby was. Sure, things sucked right now, but the freaking apocalypse was a pretty good reason to just get the show on the road and stop feeling sorry for himself. If he was lucky, he'd have a chance to patch things up with Ben when this was all over. And if he wasn't lucky… well… That was just something he didn't want to think about. Hell, he didn't want to think about anything anymore, because the only way to stop this thing was to kill the monster riding his brother, but that meant killing Sam too, and he knew he was an idiot for thinking that Sam was still in there even though Ruby said he wasn't, but he couldn't give up hope. It was like when he was searching for his dad. All logic said John was dead, but he kept searching anyway and his hard-headed stubbornness paid off in the end. Maybe this would be the same thing and Sam was just buried too deep for Ruby to sense him.

"Alright, I'll be back in a bit." He turned and headed out the door, surprised to see Ruby following him. "You want something?" he asked her on the front porch when they were clear of listening ears.

"Yeah, pick up a couple blowtorches while you're at the hardware store."

"Blowtorches?"

"They can be really effective, persuasive tools when used properly."

_Ugh_.

"Okay. Anything else?"

"Stop at a pawn shop, if there is one in this pinprick town, and get some silver. Good silver, not the plated shit."

"I know how to buy silver, Ruby. I'm not an idiot. What are you making?"

"More persuasive tools."

"O-kay," he drawled, thinking it best if his damaged psyche didn't know what she was cooking up for the unfortunate SOB they caught and '_questioned_.'

He headed for the car, and was surprised to see Ruby heading for the sidewalk.

"Where're you going?"

"Hunting."

"Ummm," he pondered, "…hunting what?"

_Do I really want to know?_

"Rabbit. I need to make some new hex bags."

_Ugh. Yeah, didn't need to know that_.

"Well, good luck with that," he said sarcastically. "Don't let Ben see you hacking up Bambi."

"I'm not an idiot," she said crossly. "And Bambi was the deer. Thumper was the rabbit."

"Whatever. Just don't let him see it. Kid's seen enough."

"Well, if we don't stop Lilith, he'll see a whole lot worse," she replied darkly, leaving him in the driveway as she loped off down the sidewalk, headed for the neighborhood park.

* * *

It was hard to try and say goodbye to Ben. They were in Missouri's living room, with Ben standing close to Missouri's side. The psychic had had a word with him after their botched talk earlier, and he and Ben were currently at a tense standoff. The kid was pissed, hurt and scared, and it all made leaving worse. If he failed… if Lilith killed him before he killed her… He just didn't want the last time he saw the boy for the kid to be angry with him.

"Look, Ben," he started, wishing they were in a more private room.

"Don't." Ben said tiredly. "I get it, okay? You have a job, and that job is stopping monsters from hurting people."

"So you understand why you have to stay here with Missouri?"

"Because the demons think I'm dead, and I'm safer if they keep thinking that." He sounded like he was reciting lines in some lame school play.

He lightly punched his shoulder, trying to get a smile out of the kid. "You are a smart one,"

"Guess I got that from my mom, huh?" There was a faint upturn to the corners of his mouth, and the sight of it made tears burn behind Dean's eyes.

"It definitely wasn't from me," he snorted, trying to mask the hitch in his throat.

"Just be careful – okay?" The pleading came out in a rushed whisper.

"Hey, careful is my middle name."

A crease marked the kid's forehead. "What _**is**_ your middle name?"

"Matthew," he stated. "What's yours?"

"Matthew… Hey, do you thing Mom knew?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

Ben's voice dropped back to a sullen tone. "Matthew is a pretty common name, isn't it."

"Yeah, but who knows," he shrugged, trying to offer the boy some common ground no matter how feeble it was.

He wanted to reach out and touch the kid, but he sensed that the tentative truce between them was as fragile as glass and he didn't want to shatter it.

"You be careful too, and do what Missouri says. If she says run, you do it. Got it?"

"Yes, sir."

That kinda hurt a bit. He would have preferred the kid calling him Dean rather than 'Sir.' He certainly wasn't expecting a 'dad', but 'sir' sounded so forced and utilitarian. He decided that this was probably the best he could hope for in this situation so he risked a shoulder squeeze and made way for Ruby and her gory presents.

"Here," she said, tossing Missouri and Ben each a small cloth bundle on a leather thong. "Put those on around your neck and never take them off."

"What about the bathtub?" Ben asked as he turned the parcel over in his hands.

"Well, okay, take it off in the shower – but keep it close."

Ben turned it over again and started to pull at the leather laces when Ruby clasped a hand tightly over his. "You don't wanna do that."

"Why not?"

"Because you don't wanna know what's in there," Bobby grunted. "Trust me, Kid. Never open a hex bag."

Ruby hunkered down so she was eye level with the boy. "Ben, I promised you that I would never hurt you. That means that I'm gonna do my best to keep you safe. If you open that, and loose even one tiny piece of anything in there, it will stop working."

"What happens when it stops working?" he whispered, a pinch of fear entering his voice as his eyes were locked on the demon's.

"This will hide you from the angels and demons, Ben. They won't be able to sense you, and they won't be able to track you. This is the best I can do to help you and Missouri keep safe until we get back." She took the hex bag out of his hands and looped it over his head, tucking the small bundle under his t-shirt. Giving the bulge a slight pat, she whispered, "Keep it close." She ruffled his hair before standing back up and facing Missouri.

"I hope you don't mind, but I was doing some cooking in your kitchen and I ransacked your herb cupboard."

One thin eyebrow shot up on her dark forehead. "And what did you take?"

"A few things that I've been having trouble finding. On the plus side, I left you a bunch of Wolfsbane and Belladonna."

"Not a bad trade," Missouri shrugged. She handed a piece of paper to Bobby and said, "Can you call Rufus for me and ask him to call his contacts and see if this grocery list can make it's way to me? I guess we can take the Belladonna off the list since Ruby left me hers."

Bobby scanned the list and his forehead crinkled. "What the devil do you need Angel's Trumpet, Moonseed and Delphinium for?"

"For a little surprise if anyone comes nosing around."

"I like how you think, Lady," Ruby grinned maliciously at the medium, obviously knowing what Missouri was planning even though Dean didn't have a clue. Plants just weren't his thing. Give him a gun over a poisonous shrub any day.

"I'll see what I can do," Bobby waved the piece of paper in the air and turned his head slightly when Missouri leaned in to peck his grizzled cheek.

"You take care now, and watch out for each other," she wagged her finger at all of them. She leaned in to kiss Dean's cheek, and whispered in his ear, "Be smart out there, Baby. The whole world depends on it."

"Gee, Missouri," he cursed. "Nothing like a good pep talk before the big game to calm a guy's nerves."


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: Kripke's toys, my sandbox. Thanks for letting me play.

**Chapter 13**

_She leaned in to kiss Dean's cheek, and whispered in his ear, "Be smart out there, Baby. The whole world depends on it."_

"_Gee, Missouri," he cursed. "Nothing like a good pep talk before the big game to calm a guy's nerves."_

* * *

**Seven Days Ago:**

It was actually really easy to hunt down the demons with Ruby's help. The chick was a natural demonic divining rod. As soon as they got to Tulsa, she started to zero in on where the energy was coming from and they closed in on a group of demons. Her hex bags worked like a charm as none of the group even suspected they were there. The only draw back was that as easy as it was for Ruby to find the demons and confirm that they were in fact demons, the fuglies in question would recognize Ruby as one of their own if they saw her face. They couldn't sense her because of the hex bags, but they would see her real face beneath her host's smile, and Dean knew from experience what an ugly broad she was. So they kept hidden and kept watch, waiting for one to break off from the group.

Hard work and determination pays off, according to the grade four teacher he had in Bowling Green, Kentucky, and it did here too. One of the demons, a sasquatch Ruby recognized from the massacre at Cassie Robinson's, took off on his own and they followed in the car Bobby hotwired as the Impala drew too much attention and the demons would recognize her easily.

Ruby and Dean were both scrunched down in the backseat so they wouldn't be seen, and Bobby was wearing a broad cowboy hat as a disguise. Dean had laughed his ass off as the demon plucked the greasy trucker's cap from the old man's head and replaced it with the Stetson. Bobby looked like an idiot, but the Stetson was as inconspicuous here in Tulsa as the yuppie SUV they stole, so he went with it.

The demon they were tailing had his hands stuffed in his pockets and his head down against the wind, blending into the humans around him with his brisk walk. He was heading away from the pedestrian packed street and making tracks for a row of low office buildings.

"Pull up and take that turn," Ruby demanded from the backseat. Bobby did as she asked, idling the black Santa Fe on the side of the road and watching out for their soon-to-be friend. The tall guy walked past their street, glanced over his shoulder at on-coming traffic and jogged across the street before heading down an alleyway.

"That will come out on the other street," Ruby sat up and rummaged through their bag. "Get up in front of him, Bobby. Dean and I will ambush him." Bobby pulled back into traffic and stepped on the gas to make the next light so they could circle around on the demon. "We gotta nab him before he disappears."

"What're you thinking?" Dean asked her.

The demoness pulled a couple hypodermic needles out of the duffle bag and handed him a flask of holy water. "Fill those. If we can get in front of him before he gets away, I'll head him off and you come at him from the rear. He'll be surprised to see me and he'll try to capture me and take me back to Lilith – but my presence will definitely throw him off balance. You come up from the rear and one of us has to jab him with the holy water." She plucked a filled syringe from his hands and slid it up the sleeve of her tight jacket. "I hope I don't stab myself with the fucking thing. This'll burn like a sonofabitch."

"Bobby, pull over right here," he demanded. "You go to the end," he instructed Ruby, "I'll cut up and around."

"Make sure he doesn't see you first," Ruby warned before she shoved the door open and ran to the end of the row of buildings. Dean leapt out of the yuppie-mobile, thinking that he'd like to take a shower later to get the feel of Hyundai off him, as he sprinted for a gap between two buildings.

It stank of stale urine in the eight foot gap; urine and garbage. He held his breath and ran for the end, coming on a dumpster and a chain link fence. The area in the back was larger than he thought it would be, as two of the buildings shared a common area back here, part parking lot and part garbage dump. He ducked behind the dumpster and peered around, trying to get a glimpse of his prey.

His stomach dropped when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Hi. Looking for me?"

He tried to leap out of the way but the demon was fast in that annoying demon way and the guy's foot caught him in the shoulder, knocking him against the dark green dumpster. His head rang along with the sound of pealing metal as the demon grabbed him by the hair and smashed his forehead against the side again.

"Nice to see you here, Winchester," the demon taunted him. He dodged Dean's elbow and jammed a knee into his stomach, dropping him again. "Lilith will be awful pleased to see you – the big boss is dying to get topside again."

Dean managed to roll onto his back and land a good kick in the demon's gut when the douche reached for him again. There was a loud 'Oomph,' as the demon doubled over, and Dean scrambled back to his feet and sent an uppercut into the demon's chin, snapping his head back and sending a shock wave up his arm that made his fingers go numb. He lunged for the demon's midsection, tackling him to the ground and a flurry of punches got traded back and forth between the two of them. They rolled across the pitted pavement, and Dean felt his cheek grind across the ground when the demon wrapped his hands around his throat to choke him. His vision went a shade darker as he struggled, but then the demon's grip slackened and a howl erupted from him. The weight of the demon slid off him and the howling continued, and Dean opened his eyes to see Ruby standing there and a syringe protruding from the douche's neck.

Ruby kicked the guy in the face, and then brought her foot down on his nose with a sickening crunch Dean was all too familiar with. The demon grunted and Ruby kicked him in the chin again, this time stopping the noise the other demon was making altogether and the dude slumped, unconscious.

Ruby glared at the downed demon as if she'd scraped him off her boot. "Not so tough without all your friends, are ya?" Ruby clearly hadn't forgotten the beating she'd gotten from Connor and his buddies.

"What took you so long?" he groused, tentatively touching his bleeding cheek.

Ruby grabbed his elbow and hauled him to his feet. "I had to scale the fence without him seeing me. Thanks for distracting him."

"You're welcome," he grunted as liquid-fire-air entered his lungs and seared them from the inside out. He thought about the wimpy turtleneck sweaters some guys wore and almost wished he had one to hide the bruises he was sure would show up later.

"The guy knew I was here," he admitted, pulling his cell from his pocket to call Bobby to bring the stolen car around so they could load the demon into it. "I though those hex bags were supposed to hide us?"

"They did." Ruby knelt down and pulled the needle from the guy's neck. "He couldn't sense you, but that doesn't mean he couldn't smell you when you got too close."

"I smell?" He lifted an arm and sniffed at his pit. He caught a faint whiff of Gillette Cool Wave.

_No different than usual._

"Demon senses are more acute than humans. Just be thankful we aren't as good as bloodhounds."

Dean shrugged and pressed the button for Bobby.

"_Yeah?_"

"Come around that driveway I ducked into. I got a present for you 'round the back." Dean flipped his phone shut and leaned down to help Ruby lug sleeping beauty upright.

They each had an arm around their necks when the black Santa Fe eased around the corner of the building. Bobby pushed the button, and the back of the SUV popped open on its hydraulics. There was a cut up black garbage bag spread out on the back carpeting that they dumped the demon onto. There was a devil's trap spray painted in orange, bright as hell fire against the black plastic. An ingenious idea of Bobby's for a mobile demon snare which saved them from vandalizing the yuppie-mobile along with stealing it. At least the guy who owned it would get it back without it being destroyed. He hoped.

Ruby slammed the rear shut and dusted off her hands. "Back to base camp, Captain."

* * *

Base camp was an abandoned house twenty minutes outside the city. There was currently a giant devil's trap painted on the scarred wood floor with an unconscious guy lying in the middle of it.

They had gotten back into the SUV and Ruby had rummaged though the duffle bag again, coming up with a small vial that she stuck the recycled syringe into, drawing up a measure of opaque, black liquid.

"Stick him with that." The brunette handed him the needle and went back to rummaging.

"What is it?"

"A tranquilizer – one I made special for people like me."

"A demonic tranquilizer? Awesome." He leaned over the back of the rear seat, and jabbed the guy in the neck. A black circle bloomed on the guy's skin around the injection site, and the coppery smell of blood and sulfur filled the vehicle. "Why'd you never use this before?" he'd asked her.

She didn't meet his eyes when she said, "Because of what's in it." He decided not to pursue the matter cuz if there was something in the night-night potion that made Ruby squirmy, it was probably better he didn't know the recipe.

So now he stood poised over the unconscious man in the abandoned house with a bucket of holy water. He sloshed it over their victim, watching it hiss and steam as the guy bolted upright and screamed, clutching at his face and neck.

"Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey," he sang, settling the bucket on the floor and dropping to his haunches so he was eyelevel with the screeching demon.

The demon panted heavily, fixing him with a fuck-you stare while he writhed on the floor.

"We can do this the easy way, or we can do this the hard way," he pointedly looked over to Ruby leaning menacingly against the wall. "She's hoping for the hard way – just so you know." The guy gave her a screw-you stare as well. Ruby blew him a kiss.

"So… Winchester and his infamous whore, Ruby," he sneered, wiping a hand over his wet and steaming skin and flicking the moisture to the ground.

"Infamous," Ruby mused, trying the word out in her mouth and smiling. "I like that."

"If you nabbed me so that you can get Lilith's location outta me, I'll tell you where she is. It's not like she doesn't wanna see you, Winchester."

"It's not Lilith we're after," Ruby crooned, walking forward with her hips swinging and her boot heels clicking on the pockmarked floor. She hunkered down next to Dean and smiled at their captive. "I plan on keeping my boy well away from that bitch so that Lucifer can stay festering in his little cage for eternity."

"Good luck with that. Really. I mean, with all the demons on the lookout for him, and the boss lady riding his brother and picking off everyone he knows – shouldn't be too tough to keep him hidden." The demon turned towards him. "Got any more kids we can butcher?"

Dean picked up a second bucket and sloshed it over the dick. Ruby skipped back so that the spray missed her, and she pulled a syringe out of her jacket pocket. She held it up so that the screaming demon could see the black liquid inside, and when she had his undivided attention, she plucked the plastic stopper off the end.

"See my little friend here?" she whispered. "You are going to tell me where Connor is, or me and Alistair's star pupil here are going to get real creative on you."

"Connor?" he wheezed. "What the fuck do you want with him?"

"An old grudge that needs settling."

"Aww, Pumpkin…" he simpered. "An old lover's spat? How sweet."

"Where's Connor?" Dean demanded.

"Get bent."

"Where's Connor?" Ruby whispered.

"Fuck you."

"Okay then. The hard way it is." She handed the hypodermic to the hunter, picked up the last bucket of holy water and dumped it over the guy's head. The second the captive started writhing, Dean jumped into the circle and jabbed him with the needle. Their hostage slumped, another black circle bloomed where the needle got him, and the scent of blood and sulfur filled his nostrils.

"Do not tell me what is in this shit," he marveled, stepping out of the snare and away from the creepy, annoying, unconscious guy. He tossed the syringe onto a nearby, rickety table. "Cuz if it's creamed kitten brains, I'll puke."

"Honestly – it's way worse." Ruby ran the back of her hand over her forehead. "Are you sure you want to be in here for this? I can do it on my own."

He thought back to his decade in hell administering the torture to countless souls. And he thought back to only a few weeks ago to when he had Alastair tied to a Star of David, and making the bastard scream… He felt a shiver run up his spine and he felt his stomach clench and his palms sweat.

"I can't make you do this by yourself," he admitted. As easy as it would be to let Ruby go to town on the captive and go wallow in a fifth somewhere, he couldn't do it. He just couldn't put this shit solely on her slender shoulders.

"My soul is already black, Dean."

"And mine isn't?"

"It's more of a shade of gray," she shrugged, trying to lighten the mood.

"I'm not running away on this."

"Suit yourself. Get a chair and tie the jerk up."

_(- - Devil's Child, by Judas Priest - -)_

* * *

Bobby could hear the screaming going on inside. It was like 'Nam and screeching metal and nails down a chalkboard all rolled into one, and he shuddered as another wail hit the night air. He took another pull off the flask in his hand and paced on the front porch, letting old Jim Beam eat holes in his stomach lining and pickle his liver.

He honestly never thought he'd live to be this old – not in this game. And a year or two ago, he started worrying about the pansy stuff like cholesterol and liquor related organ damage. The apocalypse on the horizon changed all that. The likelihood of them stopping this hell ride with all the angels and demons pitted against them were a quadrillion to one. It didn't mean this old dog would roll over and play dead. No, he was a sonofabitch through and through, and not fighting back just wasn't in his greasy, redneck blood.

Besides, Dean needed him now more than he ever had before. The boy certainly had the entire deck and then some stacked against him. Mother murdered, absent father, forced to raise his kid brother at a time when he shoulda been playing in sandboxes and climbing monkey bars. It broke his heart that the kid never got to be a kid. He'd fought with John often enough about it, telling him to get out while he could and leave his fool's vengeance alone – to be grateful that he still had his boys and to live a real life with them. That was the last time he'd ever argued with John Winchester, just after Sam left for Stanford. It was the same old thing all over again but that idjit brick-for-brains wouldn't listen to sense if it tied him to a chair and beat him with it. He winced at that image, knowing there was a demon strapped to a chair on the other side of the wall next to him, screaming at his tormentors, and mocking them between assaults.

He remembered that last fight with John, it was when Jenna and Marcus were camping out in his junkyard after their families were murdered by the very SOB demon they were after now. The kids had tracked him down and were adamant that he would teach them how to fight the monsters in the dark. More fool's vengeance.

As he always did whenever he thought about the young couple, he wondered what kind of life they would be living if he and John had got there in time. Marcus probably woulda went back to the marines, and Jenna woulda went to school somewhere. They were both smart and both fast learners and they shoulda been able to be normal. And while Marcus was the muscle of the pair, Jenna was a shade of crafty even John could sorta smile about.

John had been knocking her around for days, '_training'_, telling her to go home and forget about getting even with the demon that killed her parents – that this life wasn't meant for her and she wasn't cut out for it. And as she crouched on the thick carpet of fallen leaves, black and blue and crying, John reached for her to drive his point home; that she wasn't tough enough to do this job. Quick as a snake, the slip of a girl whipped an old heavy rake handle out of the leaves where she'd buried it earlier and clubbed him across the face with it. Twice. Then she ran like the dickens for Marcus and the tree he was standing under, she leapt into his waiting stirrup-hands and he boosted her into the tree where she climbed like the hounds of hell were after her. John was ready to get a chainsaw and cut the damn tree down, but he'd been laughing so hard he couldn't even tell John that the chainsaw was broke.

It was that night that he had his last fight with his hard-headed friend. John was nursing a sore jaw and saying that hunting was no life for those kids sleeping out in that shell of a minivan in the junkyard. And he couldn't keep his smart mouth shut when he said, '_I've been saying the same thing to you for near on eighteen years, and you haven't listened to a word of sense in all that time. You shoulda never brought your boys into this.'_ And that did it. John was sore as an ole bear in the middle of winter and he snapped, called him a buncha names and things got really heated when the munitions were brought out. The last time he saw his friend was at the end of his shotgun, telling him to get off his property. Both of 'em were idjits with a grudge and they never spoke again. Then, a few years later, and John was dead. At least he saved Dean for the price of his soul, as much damage as **_that_ **did to the boy. Kid's had a self-esteem issue his whole damn life and daddy-dearest only made it worse. Now the boy makes friends with a fucking angel, and the bastard stabs him in the back.

_Sonofabitch angels_.

If he ever got his hands on that trench-coated fairy's asshole, he'd pluck 'im. Nobody messed with **his** boys and got away with it.

The next scream from inside made him think of Sam being possessed by the demon queen herself. Ruby said Sam wasn't in there anymore; that he was gone. He could only hope that she was right cuz as strong as Sam was, demon possession messed a body up – and the stronger the demon, the more damage they reaped on the host vessel. A demon as old and strong as Lilith would leave a body a drooling vegetable, no two bits about it – and that was if they even lived through the ordeal. So he could only hope that the boy truly was gone, because Dean had a big enough obstacle in front of him in the fact that the fate of the world rested on him being able to kill what was keeping house inside his brother's body. He wondered if **he** would be able to do it – kill Sam – if Dean were unable. He shook his aching head and took another pull from the flask. A howl drifted on the still night air and he shuddered at the sound of it. He knew he'd never be able to kill Sam. When it came down to it, he was too weak. Dean would have to be the stronger man again, just as he's always been.

* * *

"Why are you holding out on us here, Waylon?" Ruby crooned in his ear. Or… to be more precise… what was left of his ear. There was only a bleeding and ragged hole where an ear had been. Dean could see it, small and bloody and lying discarded on the floor on top of one of the orange lines forming the spray-painted devil's trap. Ruby bit it off and spat it there, blood coating her teeth as she smiled at her screaming new friend. She had trickled a little holy water on the open wound just to make it worse on the douche.

"All I want is Connor. Tell me where he is, and we'll set you free." Ruby licked a line of blood off the side of his face and closed her eyes as if she were getting off on it. She might be for all Dean knew.

"Fuck you."

"Why are you protecting him? He's nothing to you." She circled around him, trailing her fingers over his short hair and giving his remaining ear a pinch.

The demon spat out a wad of blood onto the dirty wooden floor. The guy looked like he fell off a high-rise and got hit by a train when he landed. If Ruby had the mojo, she probably wouldn't like being trapped inside the circle with the captive demon, but you can't miss what you never had, right? So she circled the prisoner like a shark, as trapped as he was and counting on Dean to let her out when they were finished with Waylon. A majority of his more grievous injuries were courtesy of the brunette, Dean had just worked him over with his fists and didn't get very far. He did the standard injection of holy water, the salt, and the skin flaying which almost had him ralphing over in the corner. But he hadn't gotten a thing out of Waylon.

Ruby started getting on the surgical side of things to see if that would have any results. Surgical, like… opening up his stomach and looping intestines around his neck like demented Mardi Gras beads. The holy water she placed directly in his innards had caused half the living room to fill up with smoke and the sound of screaming demon was still reeling in his brain and making his ears ring. She cut off his fingers after she ripped the nails out and dipped the ends in a small bowl of salt. Then she cauterized the wounds with the blowtorches he bought from Kelley's Hardware in downtown Lawrence. The smell of roasting flesh would stick to him for eternity – or at least until he was killed by Lilith and the Apocalypse came knocking. Whichever came first. And if they couldn't get Connor's location out of the demon in front of him, if they didn't get that knife back…

"I am giving you one last chance to tell me where Connor is, Cupcake." Ruby was sitting across the demon's lap with her arms looped around his neck along with the gooey intestines. The chick was actually tickling the side of his face with part of his own guts.

"Or what?" he scorned her, leaning away from the entrails she was entertaining herself with.

"Or we'll send you home."

"You think that's a big deal?" he wheezed. "Oh, no! Don't send me back to hell! However will I get out again?"

"You know, Waylon," Ruby smiled, her eyes going black and Dean shivered because he could feel her coup de gras coming. Ruby had something big up her demented sleeve, and she was placing all her cards on the table now. "…You and Connor both have the same problem."

"And what's that, Sweetheart? Other than a desperate desire to roast marshmallows over your stinking corpse?"

Ruby licked her bloodstained lips and smiled sweetly. "You both underestimate me." She swiveled her head towards the hunter, arms still wrapped around the captive's neck. Dean willed himself not to recoil as her black eyes shone with amusement. "Dean, be a dear and get something out of my bag for me."

They had kept her bag of horrors on the outside of the circle, and he had been her errand boy many times in the last couple hours.

"What do you need?" he fought to keep his voice from cracking. All of it – this whole thing – threatened to make him come undone, and he didn't think he wanted to know what had Ruby smiling so happily.

"There's a small pocket on the inside. You'll find an old gold coin in there. It's threaded onto a necklace."

Dean rummaged in the bag and located the pocket she was talking about, ignoring the blood stained bolt cutters that were winking at him in the dim light. He stuck a finger into the pocket, feeling the cool metal against his fingers, and feeling something distinctly wrong wash over him. He pulled the coin out, and instead of the medallion being on a chain of some sort like he was expecting, it was threaded onto a length of coarse, white, braided hair. It twisted on the end of its loop, throwing muted sparkles of light at him as it slowly spun. He was all to glad to get rid of it when he crossed the circle and dropped it into her waiting palm. He could almost feel the evil slipping off him like he just climbed out of an oily pool.

Ruby held the coin up so that Waylon could appreciate the faintly glowing metal as it glimmered and winked.

"Do you know what this is, Waylon?" she asked softly. Dean was glad that she was turned away from him and he didn't have to see the coin reflected in her black eyes.

"The last payment you got for turning tricks when you were still alive, you fucking whore?"

"'fraid not," she winked, slipping the necklace over his head and affectionately patting the coin flat against his chest. "This, my friend, is a tracking device. We are going to send you back to hell, and this little beauty will mark your soul so the hellhounds will be waiting for you when you return." If it were possible, Waylon paled. "You see, you're just too tough for us to break. So since you're of no use to us, we'll send you back, and the hellhounds will make this evening looking like a day at Club Med." She picked up the end of a piece of intestine and tickled the underside of his chin with it. "Toodles."

"You can't say the exorcism, you're a demon." Waylon was grasping at straws.

"I can't, but Dean has had loads of experience exorcising demons. He's quite capable. Say hi to the puppies for me."

"You stupid bitch! You'll be sent back too and I'll rip your whore's soul apart when we get down below!"

Ruby laughed a tinkling laugh and pulled up the sleeve of her dark t-shirt. There, in the dim light, was the festering mark she'd shown up with the night she tracked him and Bobby down at that seedy motel in Mumfordville. "Remember Connor giving me this? You were there, weren't you? I'm not going anywhere, Waylon. Connor thought he was making me weaker by locking me in this body. You stupid SOB's rely too much on your powers, and that makes you susceptible to people like us. Take away your powers and you're nothing," she spat. "Start the exorcism, Dean."

"_Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus,_" he recited. It took him years, but he knew the ritual off by heart now. "_Omnis satanica potestas. Omnis incursio, infernalis adversarii. Omnis legio._"

Waylon's head dropped and he was panting as the exorcism started to separate him from his host. Ruby was behind him now, hands on her captive's shoulders and a line of pain entering her face. She might be bound to her current body, but Dean felt like what was coming was gonna tear her apart. There was no way this wasn't going to cause her immense pain. And who knew… maybe it would kill her. When Meg was locked inside Sam that time, they had destroyed the mark and she took off before the exorcism was complete. The mark on Ruby was something entirely new, and they didn't know what would happen, but she was calling the shots here and she said '_exorcism him_.'"

"_Omnis congregatio et secta diabolica. In nomine et virtute,domini Nostri Jesu Christi._"

The chair started to move along the lines of the devil's trap. Ruby let go of Waylon's shoulders, and balled up on the floor with her head in her hands. Both demons were screaming.

"_Eradicare et effugare a Dei Ecclesia, ab animabus ad imaginem_."

"Wait!" Waylon bellowed. "Wait! I'll tell you where he is!"

"Where's Connor?" Dean growled.

"Little Rock! He's in Little Rock!"

"He's lying," Ruby wheezed. "Finish it."

"_Dei conditis_," he continued.

"Stop!"

"Tell me where Connor is!"

"You'll let me go?"

"That's the deal."

"I want your word!"

"Fine. Tell me where he is and you won't be Hellfire Fido's new bitch."

Waylon shuddered and finally relented. "Alright, alright. He's in Nashville. Now let me go."

Dean looked at Ruby slumped on the floor. She raised her head and nodded weakly at him.

_Got him_.

"_Ac pretioso divini_."

"I told you where he is! Let me go!"

"So you can go running to the boss? I don't think so."

"You gave me your word!"

"Humans aren't under the same code of ethics when we offer a deal," he looked stonily at the bound demon. "We lie too."

"You'll regret this!"

Dean shrugged. "Whatever. _Agni sanguine redemptis_!"

Waylon's head snapped back and a miasma of black smoke shot into the air before being sucked into the floorboards. Ruby was screaming too, writhing on the floor and being pulled around by unseen hands. Apparently the exorcism wasn't too keen to let her go. Dean charged the circle, pulling his knife from his waist and scratching at the orange paint on the floor. He grabbed Ruby by one arm and dragged her out of the trap where she went limp.

He dropped to his knees next to her, pulling her against his chest. Fear clenched his heart, afraid that the exorcism might have killed her. He'd wanted her dead so many times over the last two years, but not _now_. He needed her.

"Ruby! Ruby! Speak to me!"

Her eyes shot open, pitch-black, wide with pain and fright and god knows what else. She went rigid, and her mouth opened and a terrible shrieking intake of breath filled the air. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she slumped against him, shuddering and convulsing wildly. He held her to him until the seizures stopped, almost as if he could hold onto the flayed pieces of his soul if he could hold her together long enough for the exorcism ritual to release its hold on her. She curled into him then, her blood covered fingers knotting tightly into his t-shirt and she started to sob.

Sobbing might not be the right word for what she was doing. There had been times he'd seen her eyes look wet, but he'd never seen a tear on a demon. Whatever she was doing, was the demon equivalent of a breakdown, and he let her. He knew how torturing tore his soul apart, and he had gladly let her take the reins on this one because his fragile soul couldn't handle it. Witnessing her do what she did and doing nothing to stop it shredded his already tattered soul to ribbons, but Ruby had been the executioner, and Ruby, for all the cold-hearted bitchiness she exuded, was not emotionless. He held her there, tangled on the floor, while she wept and gasped and he thought he heard her wail Sam's name a time or two. She said she had loved him that night back at the motel. He hadn't believed her then, but he was wavering on that opinion now. So he held her until the shuddering stopped and she peeled away from him, looking embarrassed and torn and mumbling apologies before practically running for the door and the open night air. He let her go, knowing how he would want to be alone at a time like this.

He turned and looked regretfully at the dead and mutilated body still bound to its chair. The guy's head was hanging so that the hair obscured the face and he took a deep, steadying breath.

_Time to clean up this mess._

* * *

As she ran past a bewildered Bobby and streaked for the dark fields, she couldn't help but smile inwardly through the pain. She deserved a fucking Oskar for that little performance.

* * *

A/N: Why does this time of year have to be so busy and hectic? I'd rather be writing!


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: Kripke's toys, my sandbox. Thanks for letting me play.

**Chapter 14**

_As she ran past a bewildered Bobby and streaked for the dark fields, she couldn't help but smile inwardly. She deserved a fucking Oskar for that little performance._

* * *

**Five Days Ago:**

Nashville:

"This is hopeless," Bobby grunted as they drove around the streets of Nashville. "How the devil are we supposed to find Connor in this, when our demonic divining rod ain't on-line?" They had been driving around the city all day in hopes of Ruby picking up a signal on her demon short-wave radio, but so far – zilch.

"He's using a hex bag against me, Bobby. What the hell do you want me to do? Climb a radio tower? Start line dancing down the street?" Ruby crossed her arms over her chest and pressed her back into the backseat. The demon had been surly ever since Waylon's exorcism. Dean figured it was because of the physical pain the ritual caused her, coupled with the torture session before and her emotional breakdown after. He was willing to bet the breakdown was behind a lot of her anger, as she was someone who didn't like weakness, and certainly didn't want any of her own to leak through and see the light of day. Dean could see her sulking in the backseat as he weaved his way through traffic, and he could hear Bobby's impatient huff. They had gotten used to the advantages Ruby gave them, and it was irritating to have the very things she used to protect them used against them now. Connor knew they would be after him to get the knife, and he had gone to ground.

"Well we sure as hell ain't gonna find 'im driving around like damn tourists!"

"So what do you think we should do, hmmm?" she spat at him. "Look him up in the phone book under demon escorts?"

"You said he wants you dead?" Bobby shot back at her. "I'm leanin' towards giving him just that."

"Yeah? You and what army!"

"Enough! Enough already! You two are worse than kids!" Dean bellowed, his voice echoing around the interior of the car. How on earth his dad ever put up with the constant barrage of bickering and name calling him and Sam did as kids is beyond him. John Winchester was never known for being the patient sort. "Now unless someone's got a good idea on how to find this douche, shut the fuck up!"

"Pull over up here," Bobby demanded.

"What – you're getting out?"

"Damn straight I am!"

"Bobby, you're not getting outta the car." Dean rolled his eyes in exasperation.

_Acting like some jilted woman…_

"Pull the damn car over, kid." Bobby pulled his trucker's hat off his head and started to rake what was left of his hair straight up.

"Bobby? What are you doing?" Ruby's face scrunched up as the old man started mis-buttoning his flannel shirt and turned his greasy vest inside out and threaded his arms back through it. "I really don't want a strip show."

"Yeah, Bobby," Dean's forehead wrinkled as he angled for a parking space. "What are you doing? You look like a crazy person."

"That's the idea, Idjit," he grunted as he rummaged through the glove box and came up with the Gideon's bible Sam had stolen from a motel ages ago.

"You got a plan or something?" Ruby sneered.

"Happens once in awhile. Keep an eye out, but stay hidden – both of you." Bobby kicked open the Impala door and strode down the sidewalk to the small green-space just ahead. He started dragging his left foot behind him, clutching the bible to his chest with one arm and swinging the other one like he was wading through hip deep mud.

He looked like a certifiable nut job. Then he started yelling – cementing the idea firmly in place.

"What the hell is he doing?" Ruby hissed, and Dean rolled down his window to hear what the old man was calling out.

"The End is near!" Bobby shouted towards the couple trees in the small park area. It was unfair to call it a park as forty square feet of grass and a park bench doesn't constitute park, but what do you call something like that?

"Is he crazy?"

"Desperate times call for desperate measures," Ruby groaned, not liking this at all. "But whatever happened to cooking up a plan? This fly by the seat of your ass stuff gets peopled killed."

"The Apocalypse is coming! Repent! Repent sinners! Beg forgiveness from God before it's too late!" Bobby was waving the bible above his head and pacing back and forth in front of the park bench.

"Laying it on thick isn't he?" the demon groused.

"Demons walk among us! Lucifer will rise!" People were giving the old man a wide berth, along with disdainful stares. Mothers pulled young children close and crossed the street to the safety of the opposite sidewalk.

"He looks like a nutter! Dean! Make him get back in the car!"

"Maybe the attention is what we need," he reasoned with her, already guessing what Bobby was up to. "Keep an eye out for anyone with a fugly face. If word of this gets to Connor, he might show up to see what's going on."

"And we have a good old fashioned shoot out here with all these people? This is suicide! Connor knows Bobby!"

"Just get some of your little needle friends ready. Actually, let me do it, you keep an eye out for demons."

Ruby rolled her eyes and handed him the vial of black liquid from the bag she always kept with her now. "Here. Don't fucking stick yourself."

"The seals are breaking! Judgment day is coming! Prepare yourselves!" The grizzled hunter was starting to attract a bit of an audience now. People love a freak show followed by a train wreck.

"The Earth will burn! The horsemen come! The angels have turned against us!"

"Hey! Look, Buddy!" Some big dude came up towards him looking angry and ready to stop the old geezer from upsetting more people. Apparently, Bible-Belt USA wasn't the place to broadcast that the angels have boned humanity.

"Crap. We might have to move," he warned Ruby, already putting his hand on the handle to shove the door open, ready to intervene with a '_sorry, my uncle's a few fries short of a happy meal._'

"Prepare yourself for Armageddon, Friend." Bobby grabbed onto the big guy's arm and gave him a full dose of drooling-crazy-face. Dean had to give the old man credit – he was one talented SOB. _**He**_ was actually starting to believe the dude was a head case and he'd known the guy for nearly his whole life.

Big Dude jerked his arm back in revulsion. "Get off me!"

"Repent your ways, Sinners!" Bobby called to the growing crowd. Dean could see several people on cell phones, likely calling the fuzz to come and take the wacko away. "Revelations!" Bobby actually leapt up on the bench and strode back and forth, screaming, "The End is near!"

Two twenty year old guys were laughing, and one threw his paper take-out cup of soda at the scrap dealer, covering him in orange soda. Bobby launched himself off the bench straight at the guffawing douche and caught him right in the bread basket. The kid doubled over and Bobby neatly tripped the dude's buddy who tried to come to his rescue. Dean had to snicker at how fast the old guy could still move but even Bobby couldn't take on a crowd this size that was quickly turning from curious to upset. Apparently, throwing soda on a crazy guy didn't warrant sympathy if said crazy could throw a meat fist around like a pro heavyweight.

"Dean!" Ruby hissed, "Look!" She pointed at a guy off to the side with a cell phone pressed to his ear. Dean couldn't see anything wrong with the guy but knew that Ruby could see the ugly behind the ugly.

"Do you know him?" he whispered, quickly checking the rounds in his nine and leaning forward to tuck the gun in the back of his jeans. Bobby had jumped back up on the bench and was bellowing to the masses to pray for help from God to stop the apocalypse from happening.

"No. I'm not sure who he is, but if he's here, he must be working for Connor." She reached forward from the backseat to take two of the hypodermics he held up for her. It left him two for himself, and he patted the front of his leather coat and felt the reassuring lump of his flask of holy water.

"Keep your eyes peeled," he murmured, scanning the crowd to see if anyone was appearing out of nowhere or if anyone was watching too closely. "He must be calling it in."

"Shit. Cops," she swore as she saw two boys in blue making their way through the crowd and bee-lining straight for Bobby. "This is why plans are needed. How the hell did he make it this long?"

"Bobby's the fucking guru, Ruby. Show some respect."

"Over his casket maybe. Look, another demon."

"Know him?"

"I remember him from Cassie's."

A lump formed in Dean's stomach at the mention of the head-strong girl, dead because of him.

_I am poison_.

"So Waylon wasn't jerking us around," he said to cover up the feeling that the world was about to open up and swallow him whole. "Connor must be near-by if his minions are scuttling around."

"Yeah, he's here. I can almost smell him."

"Repent, Sinners! Pray for mercy!" Bobby was giving the cops a good show by dropping to his knees and throwing his arms out wide to the setting sun. "Hear me, Lord!"

One of the policemen reached for Bobby's arm while the other spoke to the kid who got punched. Big Dude had gone to keep him from attacking the nut case further and getting more hurt in the process. Big Dude probably could tell that Bobby was a guy who knew how to throw a punch, and the wallop a moment ago wasn't by chance.

"Sir," officer one calmly said. "Sir, will you please come with me?"

"Daddy?" Bobby cocked his head to the side, dazedly looking at the Native officer with a lopsided smile creeping across his face. "Daddy, is that you?"

The cop rolled his eyes. "We've got a live one here, Manetti."

"Keep an eye on him, Crowe," Officer Manetti said, still kneeling next to the jerk who threw his soda. "Apparently, he throws a helluva punch."

"Sir," Crowe repeated, "please come with me, Sir."

"But the apocalypse is coming."

"The apocalypse?"

"Yeah, Lucifer 'n everything. We gotta stop it."

"Well, why don't you come to the station with us and tell us all about it?" Crowe said helpfully, holding out a hand to help the delusional old man to his feet.

* * *

"Dean," Ruby poked him in the shoulder and pointed out two men who just appeared on the opposite sidewalk. He didn't know one, but the other was definitely Connor. Both were scanning the crowd, probably looking for him and Ruby in the mass of people.

"Gotcha," Dean hissed, pushing open the door and keeping tight to the line of cars parked on the street as cover. It wouldn't be long until Connor saw the Impala. As beautiful as she was, she attracted a lot of attention. Ruby hunkered down next to him as he whispered, "I'll take Connor, you take the other guy."

"Like hell I'm taking the other guy. Connor is mine!"

"Look, we don't have time for this. Just go!" He started running along the cars in a crouch, thankful that it was a busy evening in downtown Nashville and there were no empty spots to give them away. He ducked down as he peered around the front of a Cutlass. Connor was still there, still searching, but now he and Ruby would have to cross the street and there was no way that they could do that without Connor seeing.

"You cross and draw his attention. I'll go further down and come up from behind." Ruby was already scampering down the sidewalk, earning the curious attention of a woman who looked at her oddly only to get a scowl from the hunter still crouched behind the Oldsmobile.

"Keep moving," he hissed. "You're ruining the scene." He mimed holding a video camera and the woman kept walking, discreetly trying to see where the camera crew was. He glanced back to see where Ruby was, but she was already out of sight, probably hiding around the front of a vehicle and waiting for him to draw the demon's attention. He clutched the hypodermics in his hand and took a deep breath.

_Here goes nothing…_

* * *

"Well, why don't you come to the station with us and tell us all about it?" The cop held his hand out and was wearing a reassuring smile on his face and Bobby was trying to keep up the whack-job act but there was goddamn soda dripping in his hair and he could feel the sugar drying on his face, and hell it was itchy.

"But the demons…" he insisted, letting his eyes rove convincingly as he kept an eye out for trouble. This had better work, or else that damn Ruby would never let him live it down. If they hadn't been so stymied and desperate to find that damn Connor he never woulda stooped to this cockamamie plan.

"Who better to stop the apocalypse than a station full of cops, huh?"

"Guns are no good, Daddy."

_Gotta keep up the crazy…_

"No good?"

"Nope. Don't work on demons. Angels neither. Bastards double-crossed us."

_Best to keep near the truth as much as possible. If spilling the beans out in public don't draw that bastard outta hiding, I don't know what will._

"The angels have double crossed us?" Officer Crowe asked him, his high forehead creasing with his frown as he played along with the nut-case.

"Yep. They're fixin' to set Lucifer free."

"Lucifer huh? That's high up on the hierarchy."

"Damn straight." He caught fast movement out on the street, a familiar figure on the move and a shout of '_Connor!' _He swung his head back around and saw a guy coming straight at him and Crowe.

Bobby leapt to his feet and shouted, "Christo!" The guy's eyes went ink black and Bobby shoved the officer outta the way as the knife came flashing towards him.

* * *

"Connor! You sonofabitch!" Dean strode out from behind the Cutlass and marched straight across the street as if his testicles were the size of basketballs and made of solid brass. "You've got something of mine!"

"Winchester! How'd I know you were behind this?"

"Not as stupid as you look?" he tossed back, keeping an eye on the second demon with Connor and hoping that Bobby was okay cuz he couldn't see him through the crowd at the park area, and praying that Ruby was still fast on her fucking feet.

"Where's your concubine?" Connor smiled; that bat-shit-crazy light glowing in his eyes.

"She bailed. Figured she had a better chance of surviving Armageddon in Costa Rica."

"Now that's the Ruby I know. She was always good at running away." The demon's grin got broader as the hunter closed the distance between them until he stopped when they were barely twenty feet apart.

"Well, now… Winchester… How good to see you surrendering yourself. I'm sure Lilith will make your death more painless with you cooperating so nicely."

"Fuck you. Where's my knife?" He was trying to keep Connor's attention on him cuz he just caught the faintest glimpse of dark hair from behind a truck several spaces behind the demons shoulders.

"That talented little Ginsu of yours? Why, I'm holding onto that until I see Ruby again."

"Better get your passport ready."

"Or I could just look over my shoulder, hmmm?"

* * *

The screaming started when Officer Crowe hit the ground and the demon's knife whistled past Bobby's ear as he ducked into the charge and drove his shoulder into the demon's stomach. Folk fled like scared jack-rabbits and they were the smart ones. Some just stood there frozen while others tried to jump in and help.

_Stupid civilians_.

"Freeze!" Manetti and Crowe cried, each pulling their service revolvers on the pair of them. The demon didn't care, and lunged for him again, swinging that vicious blade for his throat. Bobby saw too late the second demon coming up from behind Crowe and kicking him in the back so that he went sprawling. The second demon held up a hand and Manetti went flying.

"We got orders to bring you and your friends in," Demon Two said. "You weren't specified as being to be brought in alive."

"Nice to know," he growled, semi-crouched and circling with the two demons. The one with the knife started to walk towards him, black eyes sparkling with supremacy in the fading evening light.

"Freeze or I'll shoot!" Manetti shouted, already on one knee and his pistol braced in his arms. The warning didn't stop the demon and suddenly there was a succession of rapid fire, the demon jerked on the spot for a few seconds as bullets stuck him and blooms of blood started to saturate the front of his shirt. The bullet riddled demon smiled at the grizzled hunter, turned and threw a hand up at Officer Manetti. The cop's head swiveled sharply and his neck cracked. Manetti sank to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

"Manetti!" Crowe screamed, emptying his revolver into the demon's chest. Bobby lunged at the demon before he could mojo the second officer.

"Run!" he shouted as he tried to wrestle the knife away from the demon as Demon Two advanced on the remaining policeman. "Run!" And then he started yelling the exorcism as fast as if he were an auctioneer.

* * *

Connor whirled around on the spot, pulling the knife from the back of his jeans as he did so and arcing it down as Ruby shot out from behind a mailbox. She twirled and danced away, the knife slicing a jagged hole in the shirt she was wearing.

"I could **smell** you, bitch!" Connor snarled as he crouched slightly, knife out at the ready and salivating to sink it into Ruby's flesh. Ruby's lip curled as she circled with Connor. It left Dean with the minion and a syringe in each hand and he didn't like the feral look in this guy's eyes as he sauntered towards him. Bastard was probably as kooky as Lilith and Connor were.

"It's a pity I'm not allowed to kill you myself," Minion grinned. "But there's no rule on roughing you up. A guy can live without an arm."

"Tired of whacking off with your own hand?"

"You are a pretty one – maybe Lilith will let me have your corpse."

_Okay, that's gross_.

"Yeah? And maybe I'll piss on your funeral pyre."

"Big talk for a guy without the magic pigsticker."

"I'll bet your last girlfriend said the same thing."

"The last human I slept with, I nailed her to a door and bled her dry."

"The couple that plays together, stays together."

_...You demented Fuck_.

"You can say that again." Minion pulled at a necklace around his neck and Dean could see still-bloody teeth threaded onto it. "Her smile is what first attracted me to her."

"You are one sick SOB, you know that?"

"Perk of the job. You going to come nicely or do I get to have some fun with you?"

"Neither." He lunged for the demon, arcing the hypodermic through the air. "_Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus…"_

* * *

"Give me back my knife, you bastard."

"Oh sure, I'll just hand it over, Sweetcheeks," Connor mocked her, the knife wavering in the air and catching the glimmer from the streetlights that just turned on overhead. People were screaming and running away from the bench area across the street, and they found no safety on this sidewalk as they found paired fighters circling like caged tigers. Dean wasn't far away, but she could not help him. She had to get that knife back from Connor – it was the only way he could kill Lilith and break the final seal. Lilith would not have told these peons the true mission – wisely stating to them that Dean had to be brought to her alive for her to kill so that the overzealous morons wouldn't kill him and ruin the two millennia old plan. They couldn't be trusted with the finesse needed to pull this off – it's why she was thrown at the Winchesters in the first place – because she was the best. And this cretin was going to ruin the whole fucking thing.

"I'm getting that knife back, Connor. I promise you that."

"Well, hows about I skin you alive, and then you can have it."

"Sounds too much like your idea of foreplay. No thanks." She feinted left and then dove low and to the right, driving all her weight into the flying tackle aimed at his waist. She took him by surprise and they hit the ground hard. They tussled wildly, but he recovered too quickly and the rending pain in her thigh had her screaming in agony as Connor ripped the blade out of her flesh with a satisfied smile on his face.

"You're right, Darlin', it is like foreplay."

* * *

Bobby was almost at the end of the exorcism. He had his entire body wrapped around the writhing demon in an all out choke hold as he spoke as fast as humanly possible.

"_Agni sanguine redemptis!_" The cloud of black smoke jettisoned out of the guy's mouth, his back arching from the strain of it, and then the body fell limp in his grip. He unwrapped himself from the host and ran for where Officer Crowe was being beaten to a pulp twenty yards away. Bobby pulled the night stick from Manetti's belt as he ran past, and raced for the dead man's partner. He came up behind the pair and bashed in the side of the demon's skull with his running swing. A fine mist of blood and a wet squelching crack had Demon Two's eyes roll up into his head and he crumpled to the ground out cold.

Crowe shakily pulled himself to his knees. "Oh, my God! You killed him."

"No I didn't. Demon's don't die that easily."

"You crazy old man! That's not a demon – it's a person!"

"How many times did you shoot 'im and he kept comin'? You emptied the fucking mag and it did nothin!"

"I… I… He must have been wearing Kevlar."

"Did Kevlar snap your partner's neck? Didn't think so." He rolled the demon over, noted the slight fluttering of the eyelids and knew he only had seconds before he came to again. For the second time in two minutes, he recited the exorcism at top speed. Crowe fell over and scrambled back when the host started pitching around, his russet skin going waxy at the sight, and he nearly fainted when the cloud of demon smoke shot outta the guy.

"What the hell was that?" Crowe panted while he clutched at his chest.

"That, Officer, was a demon."

Crowe looked at him with a new look in his eyes. Confusion, disbelief and wonder all in one. Bobby was tired of people looking at him that way. "You're not just some crazy old man, are you."

"There are tons of folk who would disagree with you on that one," he held his hand out and helped yank the cop to his feet, "…but no, I ain't crazy."

"So who is this guy?" Crowe prodded Demon Two's shoulder with his toe as if were going to come alive again any second.

"Don't know. Some schmuck the demon nabbed. He's dead now."

"Did you kill him?"

"I think your bullets did that, Danno."

The cop paled as he crouched next to the dead body. "I-I…"

"Look, I know it's a crap hand, but the guy was probably already dead anyway. Demon's ride 'em hard for kicks and most don't survive – and the ones that do wish they didn't."

"How do you know so much?" he breathed.

"This is my job."

"You're like the X-Files." The wonderment in his voice made the grizzled hunter cringe.

"Who do you think they based it all on?"

"What are you? FBI?"

"I'm higher up than that. Come on, I've got partners out here somewhere."

"But Manetti…" he trailed off, looking over to the still body of _his_ partner.

"…Is dead, and I'm sorry. But my partners might still be alive. Come on."

* * *

Ruby felt the tugging of her black soul being ripped from its reluctant host before she registered the words. Dean was exorcising the minion Connor had with him, and they were smack in the middle of the blast radius. She was locked in the body she was in, but it was a pain she wasn't keen on having a repeat performance of. Connor felt it too, whipping his head around and raising a hand to fling Dean to stop him, but she could read every thought on his face and sent a boot into his gut, doubling him over, and she grabbed him by the hair and rammed her knee into his nose.

"Oh no you don't!" she yelled, smashing her elbow into the back of his neck and knocking him to the ground. In actuality, exorcising the asshole back to hell was the best thing they could hope for if she couldn't get the knife back the old fashioned way. There was a sudden, burning pain in her calf as Connor jabbed her in the leg with her knife. She fell to one knee with a scream of pain, gripping her calf as fire ripped through her. Connor tried to scramble away, to get away from Dean before he could finish the exorcism and send him and the minion both back to hell. She rolled over and wrapped a hand around the bastard's ankle. "Where you going, Baby? The show's about to start."

"Let me go, Bitch!" Connor kicked at her hand, but she held on through the pain. The only thing giving her any strength through the incalculable agony of Dean's ritual was the thought that she could send Connor back to the pit if she could only hold on. She and Connor were both being jerked along the sidewalk; it would only be another moment before it was over. She only had to hold on for another moment.

Then there was fire in her wrist. No, it wasn't fire – it was the damned knife again. She released her hold on Connor's ankle with a piercing scream. The agony was too much. Her abused body still clung to the soul magically bound to it, even though the exorcism sank bloodied, mangled fingers into her to pull it free.

Connor tried to make a break for it, and even though she couldn't see through the pain, she stumbled after him. She caught him in three strides, wrapping a death grip hand over his elbow and holding on as best as she could. "Where you think you're going?" she panted.

Connor whipped around and sank the knife into her stomach.

It felt as if she'd been dunked in hot tar and set on fire. It was all she could do to focus her eyes and look dumbly down and see the familiar bone handle protruding from her gut.

_Gut shot... Crap._

Connor gave her a vicious smile and tried to wrench the knife free, but she clasped her hands over the handle and backed up a few steps. He advanced on her, ready to get the knife back from her when she raised one hand and let what powers she had left send blue sparks of electricity leaping between outspread fingers.

"Run now, you sonofabitch."

The demon seemed to be at a loss. He wanted the knife, he wanted to watch her die, but he had to get out of there before Dean finished the exorcism. But she had the knife, which was the most crucial thing, so she backed up another step. "Or stick around," she wheezed. "You killed his son, I'm sure he'll get real creative on your ass."

Connor gave her one last scathing, hate-filled look before he disappeared right in front of her. She crumpled to the ground then, allowing the pain to wash over her and drown her. Everything was going dark, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

_At least Ben is safe…_

* * *

Dean saw Ruby and Connor fighting, but he could do nothing as his hands were full with the douchewad he was fighting. He hadn't been able to stick him with the hypodermic, and actually lost one as it rolled down the sidewalk and into a sewer grate. The cut rate demon was a good fighter and seemed to anticipate his every move, and he had a smart mouth that didn't stop flapping. He couldn't, however, keep him from yelling out the exorcism as fast as he could while they fought. So long as Douchie was in hearing distance, he was susceptible, and at the end of each other's fists was plenty susceptible.

It was out of the corner of his eye that he saw Ruby collapse. Connor was gone and Ruby was just twitching feebly on the ground clutching her middle. Foreboding overwhelmed him. He bellowed out the last line, "…_Agni sanguine redemptis!_" Black smoke erupted out of Minion's mouth, his back arching and arms thrown out wide. Dean didn't even stay to watch the show. He turned and bolted for where Ruby lay.

He dropped beside her, reaching tentatively for her because he could see the knife handle sticking out of her stomach and he knew what it meant.

"Ruby…" he whispered, brushing her dark hair off her forehead that was damp with cold sweat.

* * *

Bobby and Officer Crowe didn't have to search long before he found Dean and Ruby. People were screaming and there were people on cell phones calling 911 and the news media. They got there just in time to see Ruby fall and the black cloud shoot outta the guy Dean was fighting. Crowe gasped as the miasma shot into the air and then seeped into the ground but Bobby wasn't watching that. The cars parked along the street blocked their view of Ruby on the ground, but he saw Dean's face too clearly as the boy ran for their demon.

_This ain't good._

Bobby bolted for the other sidewalk, dodging cars in the road and knocking people outta his way. Crowe was a shadow behind him, yelling at folk to move. His uniform got him results that Bobby's crazy get-up didn't. By-standers parted like the Red Sea to let them through. He skid to a halt and shot an arm out to stop Crowe from going closer. Dean was kneeling on the ground, bent over Ruby who was twitching in his grasp, and Bobby recognized the dark pool forming on the concrete under the demon's body. Blood, and lots of it.

He dropped his arm and braced himself against the hood of a green Dodge Neon, letting his head hang and not quite able to keep the tears back.

* * *

The times he'd seen a demon die from a knife wound, there were always flashes of lightening across their faces and sparks in their eyes. But those wounds were always instantly fatal wounds, not the guaranteed slow death of a gut wound. A man could suffer for fifteen, twenty minutes with an injury like that before he bled out and succumbed to death. Guess demons weren't too different in that respect. Ruby was dying… slowly and painfully… and there was nothing he could do to stop it. The slow flickers of electricity across her features kept time with the tremors that took hold of her body. He cradled her head on his knees as her blood seeped into his jeans, warm and sticky and pungent.

_(- - On the Turning Away, by Pink Floyd - -)_

"Ruby, look at me." He brushed her hair from her forehead, trying to smile when her eyes opened up. They were her host's brown eyes instead of the demon black he was expecting.

She was panting and wheezing as she tried to swallow the pain and smile back. "Got the knife…" she offered, releasing her death's hold on the handle sticking out of her stomach.

"I knew you could." His voice hitched as a heavy ball of emotion lodged itself in his throat.

"…Connor got away…"

"It's alright. We'll get that bastard later."

The demon shook her head and closed her eyes as a new volley of shivers took her. "Not me... I'm done."

"Don't give up on me, Ruby. I need you."

"…No use…" she whispered. "…Not gonna make it."

"Isn't there anything I can do?" Tears were burning the back of his eyes and brimming over as Ruby infinitesimally shook her head. She fumbled with her hand, seeking his, so he took her cold hand in his and squeezed tight.

"…Told Connor… Ben was dead," she gasped, squeezing his hand feebly. "You've gotta kill Lilith… Keep Ben safe…"

"Ruby… I…" he stuttered, unable to tell her that he didn't think he could kill Sam's body.

"Sam's gone, Dean… must kill Lilith…" She started twitching violently then, sparks flying across her skin and her eyes went all black for a second as she squeezed his hand so hard he thought it was gonna break. Then she fell limp, her eyes melted back to their regular brown but they were dark and dull, with no spark of life left in them.

Ruby was gone.

* * *

A/N: That was such a great episode the other night, but I'll miss the smarmy dick.


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: Kripke's toys, my sandbox. Thanks for letting me play.

**Chapter 15**

"_Ruby… I…" he stuttered, unable to tell her that he didn't think he could kill Sam's body._

"_Sam's gone, Dean… must kill Lilith…" She started twitching violently then, sparks flying across her skin and her eyes went all black for a second as she squeezed his hand so hard he thought it was gonna break. Then she fell limp, her eyes melted back to their regular brown but they were dark and dull, with no spark of life left in them._

_Ruby was gone._

* * *

**Yesterday:**

He didn't know what to do. The fucking rug had literally been pulled out from under him and he had no sweet clue how to proceed. How exactly do you find the demon queen? They couldn't summon her, and there were no omens _anywhere_ which was the weirdest thing. It was like the whole freaking country was holding its collective breath and waiting for him to make his next move. Only… he didn't know what to do. He was just this broken down shell running on the ghost of fumes in his heart, and he was… _lost_.

Bobby's new cop friend helped them get Ruby's body out of the city with an ominous, '_she doesn't exist_' explanation so they were able to salt and burn her host so that the original soul could rest in place. Never did he think he'd ever be standing over a demon's funeral pyre and feeling that aching sense of personal loss that had consumed his life the last several years. And certainly not for Ruby, who he had fantasized about killing every way possible ever since he met her. A lot can change in the course of a few weeks when your brother's body is being ridden by pure black evil and Lucifer is waiting in the wings to make his grand entrance from Hell's stage left.

He called Missouri from a payphone to tell her about Ruby. Ben took it hard. He told her to be careful, and to be on the lookout for demons in the area. He didn't like how everything was so quiet. Bobby didn't like being stymied. It wasn't normal for there not to be a single freaking thing, not when they were all five yards from the end zone like they were. There should be demons throwing keggers in the streets and tossing mutilated body parts from rooftops like ticker tape. Not nothing. Not the big steaming pile of squat that was facing them.

He had woken up after a few scant hours of sleep. He had dreamed of Ruby dying all over again, reliving every second in epic detail. He could feel her squeezing his hand, hear her rasping breath and feel her shuddering against him as death took her. It was the shaking that woke him up, and he was surprised to find out that it was him trembling and not just the echoes of the dream.

So he was sitting in the dirty motel room with the psychedelic geometry on the bedspread and wall paper, all of which was giving him a massive headache, and he was slowly turning his cell phone over and over in his hands. He hadn't used it in weeks and had taken the battery and SIM card out of it for added measure to keep Lilith from tagging him somehow. It wasn't as if he had anyone to call anyway; Bobby was riding shotgun and his brother was… well, he wasn't going to be calling his brother.

Until now.

He had put the card and battery back in the phone, Bobby was standing by the salted front window peeking out the garish curtains with the sawed-off ready in his hands, and he was turning the phone over in his hands as if he were some teenager trying to work up the nerve to call the pretty girl from his math class.

_Fa King Su Pah_… he muttered to himself.

"Get on with it, boy," Bobby grumbled. "It ain't gonna get any easier."

So Dean took a deep breath and pressed the 'on' button, waiting for the cell to warm up and connect to his service provider. He counted in his head, _one, two, three, four_, and then five little blue bars showed up in the top left corner. Perfect fucking signal.

He could feel his heart racing, and was surprised that Bobby couldn't hear it from where he was standing – or maybe he could and he was just being considerate enough not to point it out to him. He could feel cold sweat breaking out on his forehead in time to the throbs of his headache, and he took a pull from his ever present flask to steady his hands. He glanced beside him at the knife winking dully in the shitty fifteen watt light of the room. There had probably never been a book cracked in this room ever.

_Get it over with_.

He pressed and held the number two button, holding his breath while he held the phone to his ear.

_One ringy-dingy, two ringy-dingy…_

"_Hello, Dean_," came the slow, familiar sound of his brother's voice. It was like he'd only heard Sam speak moments ago and not three weeks hence.

"Hello, Lilith." His heart was officially lodged in his throat and he didn't know if he was going to be able breathe in the next few seconds. He swallowed thickly to push his heart back down and gripped the knife tightly in his fist for strength.

"_I heard about Ruby_," she said softly with Sam's voice. He could almost mistake it for Sam remorsefully saying it. "_I'm sorry she went out that way._"

"Ruby was working against you," he felt the need to point it out, even though it was blatantly obvious.

"_Yes, but I did care for her deeply. It hurt when she turned on me._"

"That's what happens when you try and destroy the world," he breathed.

"_Why are you calling me, Dean? Are you tired of the game?_"

"This is no game."

"_True, but I don't know what else to call it. Master plan sounds so contrived._"

"Where are you?"

"_Do you really think you can beat me?_" He could just picture the mildly amused expression on Sam's face from the tone of the demon's voice.

"I kill you, I derail the apocalypse."

"_Can you kill this body?_" His tongue turned to a block of wood and his breath shuddered painfully through him at how blandly she asked that question with his brother's voice. "_I don't think you can. It is why I chose this host over a billion others._"

"Where are you?"

"_So eager to die…_" Lilith mused.

"I want this to be over."

"_I understand. I want this over as well_." He could almost see the bored look on Sam's face as he spoke. "_I will tell you where I am. Come meet me and I will stop hunting your loved ones... And I will guarantee you safe passage._"

"Okay," his heart turned to lead in his chest. "Where do we meet?"

* * *

_(- -Day That Never Comes, by Metallica - -)_

The industrial park in Lexington, Kentucky. That's where he was headed. That's where she told him to meet her. Their final showdown. Good versus evil and the fate of the world in the balance. _No pressure_.

He was flying down the Kentucky back roads at a pace that would make anyone other than a fighter pilot sick. The radio was off for a change, the only sound was the growl of the Impala's engine as she ate up the blacktop at her owners demand. He was trying to block out the events of the past six weeks, he _needed_ to block out the events of the last six weeks. But sometimes Winchester determination wasn't always enough and the gruesome travesties of the recent past took to the forefront of his mind like a sick movie. Sam's face covered in demon blood, finding out the angels set him up, Lilith throwing balls of magic at them in the guise of a little girl, the same little girl standing on Sam's hips and stabbing him in the chest with a fucking pen, breaking his possession ward and taking his brother for herself. Then the traveling massacre sideshow…

Ghosts from his past drifted in the back of his mind. Sarah, covered in blood and holding out a hand to him to help her. Cassie, wild black curls and hands on her hips and telling him off for not getting there in time. Lisa – beautiful Lisa – with her sad dark eyes, pleading with him to keep Ben safe for her. Ruby squeezing his hand as her soul was torn to bits and lightning flashed across her eyes and skin. Too many ghosts. Too many for one man to have.

Bobby was sitting beside him, staring stonily out the window at the passing fields and pastures. He hadn't said much since they started this final leg of their road-trip. He figured the old man was making peace with whoever he needed to make peace with. Whether it was God, John, his wife or himself… he didn't know and he wasn't about to ask. A man's demons were his alone, and Bobby had his fair share.

He tried to run the plan over in his head one last time, trying to find and plug holes in their scheme. If they were to fight Lilith, the rules of the game were pretty straightforward. Lilith had to kill him herself to break the final seal, so worst case scenario was that she'd have her entourage circling them, cheering her on and witnessing every last drop of blood in the cage match to end all cage matches. He still had one shot of Ruby's demonic tranquilizer left. If he could jab her with the serum, take her down for a few minutes… if he and Bobby could hold off the other demons long enough to bellow the exorcism and clear the room… if they could see if Sam was still in there… _Too many if's_. Not to mention the gaping black hole in the plan Bobby pointed out that if they did by some Hail-Mary-miracle manage to pull it off and send all the demon's back to hell, it wouldn't take Lilith long to get back out again and she could just come at him again in a different body and take him completely unawares. He could be standing in line at the gas station and she could come up from behind and shiv him in the kidney's. Then it's _hello Lucifer_… The only reason that Bobby hadn't beat him to a pulp for suggesting the crazy plan is because of Sam. Dean knew that Bobby felt as if Sam was gone cuz Ruby said so, but this was Sam they were talking about and Bobby was the closest thing they had to a father. The three of them were _family_. Bobby was struggling to accept that Sam was gone, or that the fate of the world outweighed the fate of one, but Dean just couldn't do it. He couldn't accept that. And he certainly couldn't kill Lilith without trying to see if Sam was still in there.

He glanced at his friend and mentor out of the corner of his eye. Bobby was still staring out the window, but he had the road atlas open on his lap.

"How far we got, Bobby?" he asked, seeing the elder hunter jump slightly at the intrusion to his thoughts.

Bobby shook his head, glanced at the map and replied, "About another hour I'd say."

"An hour," he repeated, feeling the words settle into his heart like a lead weight. In roughly an hour, he would come face to face with his brother and the monster that stole him. He gripped the wheel tightly to keep them from shaking. Bobby didn't miss the white-knuckles.

"You ready for this, Kid?"

"No, but what choices do we have?"

"Not a whole helluva lot. You know we don't stand a snowball's chance of pulling this off, right?"

"I know… But we have to try."

* * *

They were leaving the Impala behind a dumpster several buildings away. It was late, and the place was dark, so they hoped no one would report the car and have her towed. Not that they had much chance of needing her to make a quick getaway – this plan had '_kamikaze'_ written all over it. Dean just didn't want some baboon towing his baby away and roughing her up.

He glanced over to Bobby making his final preparations. He was tightening an ammo belt full of salt-rounds across his chest before reaching into his duffle in the trunk and pulling out two small objects, tucking them in to the pockets of his vest.

"What the hell were those?" he asked.

Bobby withdrew the small, drab green pineapple from his pocket and showed it to him. Dean let out a low whistle. "How did you manage to get your greasy hands on those?" he asked with a mix of admiration in his voice.

"I got contacts, Kid." Bobby gave him a soft snort and a quick grin. "Rufus."

Dean laughed, part fear and part apprehension. "If we make it outta here, I'm definitely gonna start being friends with ole Rufus. Dude has some serious toys."

* * *

"Lilith?" the demon stuck her head into the warehouse's main office.

Lilith peeled their lips from the neck of the brunette twisted around them on top of the leather sofa. The latest conquest was a prostitute with a meth addiction. "Yes?" the demon queen answered. The girl seemed little fazed at the intrusion, barely glancing at the newcomer as deft fingers pulled at shirt buttons. She did however seem a little confused at the feminine name but kept at her work of undressing her client like the pro she was.

"Winchester and Singer were spotted making their way towards the building."

The demon smiled with her stolen lips and Sam cringed inside his prison. "Perfect. Let Winchester get through without hurting him too badly. Singer is unnecessary." Meth-Head whipped her head around, eyes widening with sudden fear.

_Unnecessary? What the fuck does that mean?_ Sam demanded of his warden.

"On second thought…" Lilith mused, "Separate them. Capture the old man."

"Yes, ma'am." The demon ducked back out of the room and hurried to do her mistress's bidding.

"And you, my darling," Lilith cooed, placing gentle hands on either side of the hooker's head to which the girl responded with a frightened smile. Lilith kissed her softly on the lips before twisting her neck sharply. The quick snap in the quiet room echoed in Sam's ears. "Well… you didn't agree to my deal."

* * *

They were pushing their way through the foliage with as much style and skill as Apache warriors. Not that there was much in the way of cover, but the three feet of scrub brush between the warehouses was as much as they could ask for. Every leaf crunch and twig snap sounded like cannon fire in the calm night. The cloud cover was good – no moon to highlight them to the enemy. He didn't doubt there were sentries posted around the compound, but they hadn't come into contact with one yet.

They eased their way around a parked fifty foot trailer, using the giant wheels to crouch behind. There was a demon just ahead, and Dean could only hope that the gunk they got from the hunting store that guys used for bagging deer worked. The guy at the counter had sworn by it, telling them that it masked the human scent and made it more natural so as to not scare off the wildlife. So they were placing their lives in the stuff that reeked of pine sap, as Dean didn't want a repeat of what happened with Waylon in the alleyway in Tulsa. He didn't want those bastards to smell him coming.

They crouched, and silently made their way around the trailer, ducking into the shadow of a pile of discarded wooden pallets. Creeping forward inch by inch on the unsuspecting demon, he willed his heart to stop beating so hard so that it wouldn't give them away. At a nod from Bobby, he took a deep breath and jumped out from behind the pallets and plunged the knife into the demon's throat while locking a hand over his mouth to keep him from alerting anyone else. Bobby rushed out and helped grab the dying demon before he could hit the ground and the two of them dragged him behind Pallet Mountain. They patted him down and found a cell phone that they turned off. The last thing they needed was for one of the other cronies to call the douchebag and get no answer and come looking for him. This way, if they called him and it went straight to voicemail, they might think he's at least on the other line with someone else. If it only bought them a few extra minutes, that would be more than they started with.

They took down two more guards in similar fashion. Deer-Goop seemed to be working at least as the most attention it garnered so far was one demon wrinkling her nose before cold steel was plunged into her jugular. There was now a clear line from them to the side door they were planning on breaching. Lilith had promised them safe passage, but they all knew it was a false promise. The hunters came loaded for bear, and they were looking to put up one helluva fight.

Bobby doubled checked his sawed-off and Dean tightened his grip on the knife. Scanning a final glance over the yard to make sure there weren't any demons to see them, they hurried over to the metal door. Opening the door a crack, Bobby peeked inside while Dean kept watch on the outside. A pat on the shoulder and they were both in the building.

It was a long narrow part of the warehouse. They were in a receiving area and they could see yellow lines painted on the concrete floors. Arrows pointed this way and that, metal lockers lined a wall nearby and they could see several cinder block hallways just ahead. The lighting was sparse, only a dim, flickering fluorescent every dozen yards or so, and many of them burnt out so that great expanses of floor space weren't lit at all.

"Which way do you think?" Dean whispered.

"Well, she ain't out here. Head for the hallway on the left. We'll search each one 'til we find 'er."

They warily made their way towards the leftmost, and closest, hallway. It was too easy, and he didn't like that one bit.

"Where are they all?" he hissed as they entered the cement block hallway. The low light and drab grey paint color made it resemble a tomb.

"This ain't right," Bobby agreed with him.

"Trap?"

"Guaranteed."

"Fucking demons. Safe passage my ass."

"Come on," Bobby lightly slapped his chest. "Keep going."

They peeked in doorways as they passed them, keeping an eye out for incoming fuglies but there was nothing. He really didn't like this. His nerves were strung tight, and he doubted Bobby felt any better. It would be better if they were facing the enemy instead of wondering where the fuck they were at. Doors banged open behind and ahead of them and he took that wish back. Demons streamed towards them, screaming their bloodlust. Both hunters opened fire on the incoming hoard. The salt rounds were hurting them. One demon fell and was trampled by the others.

Bobby shouldered his way into a shut door. "Come on!" Dean fired off another round and dove into the room. Bobby slammed the door shut and Dean pushed a heavy desk across it. The thumps on the other side and growls of angry demons were loud and clear in the room.

"This way!" Bobby charged across the room, bee lining for a door in the rear. They entered into some sort of chemical storage room and the air was sharp and acrid with the stench of the products. "Keep going!" They heard the door in the first room bang open and the shouts of the demons hot on their heels. Dean spun around and fired a shot at the demon in the lead. He got hit in the shoulder and was pushed out of the way by the chick behind him. They were running for a door when it burst open and more demons charged out of it. They both veered away from the new line of attack, running for the end of the storage room where another hallway started. Dean fired blindly over his shoulder and heard a plastic bucket explode and a demon scream. Whatever was in some of the chemicals hurt the sonsofbitches.

"GO! GO!" Dean bellowed, firing over his shoulder again and running for all he was worth.

The sprinted down the hallway and charged through the first door they came to. They slammed the door, but this room was open and empty, and there was nothing to brace against it. They both dug their shoulders in as demons started slamming into it from the other side.

"Fucking trapped," he cursed as he pushed back against the door.

"Go," Bobby grunted, digging his boot treads into the concrete floor and pushing for all he was worth.

"What?"

"You heard me – Go!" A heavy thump from the other side almost gained the demons entry but the hunters fought back.

"I'm not leaving you here!"

"I'll hold 'em off. Stop Lilith."

"How the fuck will you…" but Bobby reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a small oblong shape. "Bobby…No," he breathed, understanding dawning on him.

"I'll hold 'em off. Go."

"But…"

"Stop that crazy bitch before she frees Lucifer!"

"But you'll die!"

"This is bigger than both of us and I can't kill 'im! Go!" Bobby shoved his shoulder. "NOW!"

And his soul-be-damned – he ran. He ran and kept running even though he heard the sounds of the door smashing open. And he ran even though he heard Bobby yelling and shots firing. And as he ran into another hallway, he heard the loud explosion of the frag grenade going off.

_Fuck, Bobby…_

He kept running though, knowing Bobby only bought him a moment for the steep cost of his life. The demons would be on his tail and he had to lose them. He sprinted down another hallway, circled right and through another storage room, closing any doors he saw in hopes of confusing his pursuers. He ducked into one room and slammed the door behind him.

"Hello, Dean." A voice as familiar as his own sounded from the side of the room. Sitting on a leather sofa, perfectly relaxed and a dead chick lying on the floor at his feet, sat his brother and the monster that stole him from him. "Good to see you again."

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the messed up posting schedule lately guys. I'm hoping that things will settle down when the Christmas-Craziness is over and I'll be back to regular postings. If I don't post next week, Happy Holidays to all of you, whatever you celebrate.


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: Kripke's toys, my sandbox. Thanks for letting me play.

**Chapter 16**

_He kept running though, knowing Bobby only bought him a moment for the steep cost of his life. The demons would be on his tail and he had to lose them. He sprinted down another hallway, circled right and through another storage room, closing any doors he saw in hopes of confusing his pursuers. He ducked into one room and slammed the door behind him._

"_Hello, Dean." A voice as familiar as his own sounded from the side of the room. Sitting on a leather sofa, perfectly relaxed and a dead chick lying on the floor at his feet, sat his brother and the monster that stole him from him. "Good to see you again."_

* * *

**Yesterday:**

_(- - Working Class Hero, by John Lennon - -)_

He didn't know what the emotion was that was running through him as he looked across the room at his brother, or more accurately, the beast that stole him. Fear, anger… _loss_. How the hell did everything come down to this? How the fuck did the _world_ come down to this?

"Where's my brother, Bitch."

* * *

Sam's stolen heart broke when Dean barreled into the room unaware of the monster in the corner. He could smell the fear rolling off him, and that meant that Lilith could too.

_Showtime…_ she giggled.

_He won't do it_.

_There are ways to persuade him. I'm sure I'll come up with something._

_I'll kill you, Bitch_.

_That's your brother's job, Sammy-boy._

"Hello, Dean," she called softly. Sam flinched at the shock, then anger, on his brother's face. "It's good to see you again." She stood up from the sofa, stepping over the body of the dead prostitute on the floor.

"Where's my brother, Bitch," he growled, gripping the traitor's knife in his hand so tightly the knuckles were white as bone.

"Oh, so you got your toy back. Tell me you killed Connor and that's why the fool lost it." The demon shrugged, nonplussed by the weapon. "Like you'll really be able to use it."

"Sam! You in there? Where's my fucking brother!"

"Far, far away, where he can't do any harm. Not that the same can be said for me." Sam felt his lips widen into a grotesque smile. They took another deliberate step forward towards Dean. Dean, for his part, held his ground. "I am going to kill you, Dean. Do you realize that?"

"You might find I don't die that easy."

"Yes, like a cockroach. But there is no one to pull you back from the veil this time. There will be no crossroads deal, no reapers, no angels, no anyone. You are going to die and your death will free my lord and master from his prison."

"Lucy is staying exactly where he's at."

"Do you think you can stop me? Are you really this foolish? I've been planning this for eons!"

"I'm giving you one last chance to vacate my brother, you whore."

"Or what?" she mocked him.

"_Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus,_" he chanted.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" she scoffed. She threw a hand up at him and Dean went sailing into the opposite wall. He slumped to the floor, bracing an arm under him to lever himself back up.

_What are you playing at?_ Sam demanded.

_Gotta make it believable, Sam. Make him think he's got a fighting chance. He'll wonder why he's not dead already if I don't knock him around a bit._

She threw out her hand again and Dean was pinned to the wall, inching his way up the scuffed drywall as he kicked his feet and clutched at his throat. He still held onto the knife though, which said a lot for the caliber of Dean's dogged stubbornness.

"_Omnis satanica potestas,_" he gasped faintly as he rose in the air. Lilith cast him across the room, landing him on the leather sofa where he bounced off and landed on the dead Meth-Head's legs. Dean pushed himself up, crouching and holding out the knife.

"I came here for my brother, you body-snatching whore. I'm not leaving without him." Dean circled, looking for an opening. "_Omnis incursio._"

Sam felt the ripple of lightning sear down his spinal column. He could taste sulfur on his lips and smell the synapses in his brain smolder as electricity coursed through him. He had felt this kind of pain before when he'd been possessed by Meg. He could only hope that Dean was able to pull off whatever he was planning because icing the bitch was the wrong playbook to be going by. If Dean could finish the exorcism, if he could get free, then he could warn his brother of the real plan.

_Don't get your hopes up, Skippy_, Lilith snarled. _I've worked too damn long for this to go south on me now_.

* * *

Pain ran up and down every bone in his body. Slamming into the walls, falling to the floor – not to mention the Darth-Vader-choke-hold that turned every breath to fire – Yeah, not going so well. But he wasn't dead yet and Lucifer was still in archangel maximum security prison, so bonus points for the human, right?

He crouched, holding the knife out towards the one person he could never use it on, knowing the demon inside his brother knew that too. But Ruby and Bobby were both dead because they had tried to get him to this place, and he feared he was going to repay their sacrifice by getting himself killed and jumpstarting the apocalypse.

"_Omnis incursio,_" he spat, seeing the pain flicker across familiar – and not familiar – green eyes.

"Don't think so, Big Brother." Lilith smiled and held her hands a few inches apart. A blue ball of flame grew between her palms and he remembered those little fuckers being thrown at him back in New Jersey when Lilith had been riding that little girl. He dove out of the way and felt the searing heat as the flames passed above him and slammed into a filing cabinet. Folders exploded out of the cabinet, raining down smoldering bits of paper all around him.

"_Infernalis adversarii!_" He could feel the plastic barrel of the syringe in his jacket pocket. By some miracle it was still whole. If he could just get close to the bitch…

He rolled across the floor as another ball of flame hurtled towards him. Spatters landed on the dead woman on the floor and her clothes and hair started to smolder, filling the room with the acrid stench. He reached behind him and pulled out his nine from the waist of his jeans, firing a consecrated iron round into Sam's thigh. The giant crumpled to one knee and he screamed, clutching his hands to the wound. Dean used the distraction to scramble to his feet and tackle his brother around the midsection before the bitch could recover and cook up another ball of flame. He straddled his stomach and punched him again and again, feeling his knuckles split and crack, feeling the jarring impacts bolt up and down his arms… feeling every ounce of anger and hatred and fear he had for the being beneath him fuel his assault.

Lilith raised her arms to block a blow and jabbed a knee into his back, throwing him off balance. He caught himself as he hit the floor, rolling with the fall and coming up to his knees in time to get a slug to the face. The force of the blow knocked him sideways, and as Lilith reached for him to grab him, he pulled the syringe out of his pocket and stabbed at her.

The bitch was fast. She reared back at the sight of the needle and cast up her hand at him. He felt the hypodermic being ripped out of his hand and heard it smack into the wall with enough force to shatter the plastic and leave a splatshot of black liquid oozing and sizzling down the drywall.

_Shit!_

"You insignificant speck!" Lilith bellowed.

He felt himself thrown across the room, stuck to the wall again with a vise around his throat. He could smell the scent of burning paper and hair, the smoke drifting lazily around the room, completely uncaring that he was about to die and that he was taking the world with him. Lilith stalked towards him, a giant hand outstretched and her fingers curled into the shape of his neck. She walked towards him until her hand fit the curve of his throat, squeezing anew now that she had the flesh in her hand. She lifted him so that his toes dangled a few inches off the ground and all his weight was supported by one strong hand around one delicate throat. Familiar lips curled back as she sneered at him and he tried not to look into the white, soulless eyes boring into his. He saw the knife lying on the floor where it fell when he was being tossed around like a bean-bag in some lame kid's game. A lot of good it did him there, might as well be in Wyoming for all the good it was doing him. And his ace-in-the-hole was currently dripping slowly down the wall, peeling paint as it did so.

He could feel white heat emanating from the large hand at his throat, and he could see the white light to go with it shining through his tightly squeezed eyes.

This was it.

It's true when they say that your whole life flashes before your eyes when you die. All the times he bought it, he wasn't sure if it did then or not, but his life was definitely on fast forward now. Sam toddling into his arms with his first steps, the first time he got to second base when he was fourteen, the first time he drove the Impala, his dad smiling at him after his first ghoul hunt and the amazing head shot he gave it… Quick glimpses… the proverbial flash.

Air was hard to come by now, and the heat that had started at his throat was spreading.

He was going to die.

* * *

_What are you doing!_ he shouted at the demon. She was choking his brother to death and he had no idea what she was up to. She wanted Dean to kill her and break the final seal, not kill him and ruin all her plans. She said earlier that she had to make it convincing, but he was fucking _**dying**_ and he could feel the life being squeezed out of his brother by his own hand.

_Searching, Sam_, she replied calmly, ignoring his turmoil as she normally did.

_Searching for what!_

_There has got to be a memory in there that will make him come after you with guns blazing. I just haven't found it yet_.

_You're doing this?_ He had seen the lightening flashes of images and didn't understand them or what they were – most were too fast to even see what the images were. The ones he could make out were mostly of him and Dean, but some were just of his brother and their dad, or of someone else entirely. He thought it was the runaway emotions he was feeling as he watched his brother being choked to death, not some magic of the demon queen's.

_I am going to push this bastard over the edge if it's the last thing I do_, she smirked.

* * *

Any second now. He would lose consciousness any second and then the world would burn and everyone would die. He gripped at the hand around his throat and tried to pull at it. It was like trying to bend steel, and Superman he wasn't.

More images flashed by faster than the speed of light. Seems your life flashes in the order it happened in. The ones now were more recent. Pulling Sam from his burning apartment at Stanford, Sam dying in his arms and then making the deal to bring him back, his time in hell, sleeping with Anna in the back of the Impala, carrying Ben's still body out of that dugout in Joliette… Ben waking up a few days later at Missouri's… their awkward goodbye.

* * *

_The boy still lives?_ she shrieked. _That lying whore!_

Sam tried to take courage from her anger and indignation and he laughed cruelly at her. _Ruby's good at manipulating people. Guess you weren't immune either_.

_She already got what she deserved,_ Lilith spat. _But now I have what I need_.

* * *

The images stopped whirring past and landed on him and Ben in Missouri's living room. He thought that this was the final image before the lights went out for good and was grateful he didn't have to see Ruby dying in his arms again, or the determined look in Bobby's eyes when he told him to run. That's what he would have thought was his adios memory – if the pain in his throat hadn't lessened.

"So the boy lives?" Lilith whispered in his ear. "I'll have to make sure that he's Lucifer's first meal when he gets out of the joint."

Something welled up from deep inside him. Whether it was fear, horror or something else – he didn't know. What he did know was that there was no way this demon bitch and her boss were getting anywhere _**near**_ his kid. He snapped his head forward and cracked it into his brother's nose, a spurt of blood shooting out of one nostril.

* * *

The cracking of the cartilage was nothing new to him. He'd broken his nose a couple times in his life and had always had Dean to set it right for him so he'd never suffered a crooked nose. This one hurt like a bitch; although most of that pain might be from the fact that Lilith was playing Dean like a guitar and she was Stevie Ray Vaughn on an acid high.

Dean's fist reared back and slammed his broken nose and Lilith staggered back with practiced perfection. She threw a punch at his brother, Dean ducked and sent one at the demon's stomach that doubled her over. Dean rammed a knee into her face and more blood spurted out of the shattered nose. Lilith was almost doing the dance of joy from that dumb old show "Perfect Strangers".

_He's pissed!_ she squealed, throwing a jab at Dean's jaw. Dean kiltered sideways, but regained his balance and tackled the demon around the waist, sending both of them to the floor.

They rolled across the cheap vinyl tiles, trading blows. Sam screamed at Lilith who was cackling with glee as Dean hit them again and again.

* * *

All thought left his brain as they wrestled on the floor. There was only blood red hate and the need to keep Ben safe from Lucifer. Because he didn't doubt that Lilith was telling the truth in that she would take the boss to Ben just so that the entire Winchester line would be destroyed once and for all.

So they rolled and fought, they punched and kicked and tore at each other until Dean felt something sharp dig into his back and when they rolled again he brought up the familiar handle and sank it into the demon's shoulder. Lilith bellowed in pain and kneed him in the back. He fell forward, keeping his grip on the handle and ripping it free as he rolled. The bitch screamed in agony and sprang to her feet, aiming a kick to his head. He fell to the side and the kick glanced off his upper arm. It stung like hell but he got to his feet and squared off against the behemoth.

"You're not gonna use that against me."

"Don't be so sure about that." He was bluffing, but if the bitch tossed him into another wall again, it might knock him out. He had a thick skull, but it could only take so much.

"_Omnis legio,_" he cursed.

The demon started laughing, loud and deep. "Too late for that one, Dean. The gas ran out on that little exorcism and you'll have to start alllllll over," she sang.

_Fuck!_

Lilith charged him, swinging meat fists and moving faster than Sam ever would have been able to. Dean swung the knife to keep her at bay but she kept dodging and pushing forward, and he kept giving up ground. This was not how he envisioned this whole thing to go down. Granted, he had made it farther than he thought he would, but he was up crap creek and he knew it. He stepped back farther and stumbled on the dead chicks boot heels. Lilith tried to take advantage and moved in on him. He swung the knife, aiming for her side, but she feinted right as he swung, and as he altered his swing, she feinted again and he felt the sickening wet squelch of the knife sinking into flesh and the shocked look in the demon's white eyes as she sank against him.

_No!_

Her mouth opened into a comic 'O' that was anything but funny, and she loosened her grip on his bicep as she backed up a pace, the bone handle still quivering where it penetrated between two ribs. Dean looked from the knife to his traitorous hands as the demon gently touched the bone handle.

_NO!_

"SAM!" he bellowed, rushing forward as the giant crumpled and lightning flashed across features he'd known his whole life. "SAM!"

White eyes rolled to green, pain and torture etched every line and crease of his brother's face and Dean sank to his knees next to the trembling body and rested a hand on his chest over his heart, inches away from where the knife glimmered in the light. He could see the war going on between his brother and the demon. The eyes went hard and flinty and then back to pain filled as the demon died and tried to take Sam with her.

"SAM! Hold on!"

"Dean..." he gasped, clutching at the front of his shirt and twisting his fingers into the material. "Run... Lucifer..."

But Dean didn't hear what else Sam said because the building rocked on its foundation.

* * *

He was in quiet conversation with Nyan when there were cries of alarm from the other angels as their prison shook. The force of the power erupting up and around them had the walls of the prison inhale on themselves before blowing out. The force of a hundred nuclear bombs washed over them all and Cas felt Anna lunge towards him and grip his arm and hold tightly to him.

"It's happening!" she cried, fear entering a voice that had never known real fear before.

Cas grabbed Nyan's arm and pulled him towards him and Anna, using his own body to shield the other two as the blast assaulted their prison. He had never known the feeling of loss before, but felt as if he were experiencing it now. If Lucifer were breaking free of his cell, and there was no doubt in his mind that that was what was happening because nothing else could generate this level of pent up, infinite, cosmic power than the fallen Morning Star breaking free of his restraints. And if Lucifer were free, then that meant that Dean had failed. A feeling he could only call mourning filled him as his friend was surely to be dead soon.

The walls shook and dust and debris rained down on them. Light filled every crevice, shining out from the bodies of his fellow inmates as screams filled the air. Pain slammed into the angel as he bared the brunt of the force. The light crested, growing so bright even the angels couldn't look upon it. Cas squeezed his eyes shut and felt fire rain over him, pushing him onto the backs of Anna and Nyan as he fought to cover them.

The pressure built up, pushing them down and pushing out, until an explosion that made Vesuvius and Pompeii look like Dollar Store fire crackers blasted the cell to pieces. The three of them fell forward, screaming as the pain flooded every sense they had. Castiel had never known real pain before, and the irony that he was learning it now, now as they were all surely about to die, was not lost on him. He had learned many things during his time on earth with Dean Winchester, and an appreciation of irony was one of those things.

The light pulled back, leaching back towards earth and leaving them cowering in the smoke and dust.

They were free... And still alive.

"Bet they weren't counting on that," he muttered, grabbing Anna and Nyan by the arms and pulling them to their feet. "Come on. We've got to get down there."

"We don't know where they are," Anna stressed to him.

"I can find them," he answered, looking at his palm and feeling the deep connection he had with the elder Winchester. The mark he left on Dean's shoulder formed a bond so powerful only death could break it. And Dean was still alive.

"Come on." He closed his eyes, grabbed the other two's hands and let the mark pull him towards his friend.

* * *

Jenna whipped around and stared at the sky. She could have sworn she felt something. A shift in the air pressure... an ill breeze... She didn't know what it was, but something was off. Something big.

"What is it, Jenna-Girl?" Marcus gave her a concerned look from his stance at the mouth of the alleyway. They were on stakeout – watching a guy they suspected was the werewolf plaguing the Denver area. The guy was in a bar having a few drinks, nothing alarming in his activity at all, but it was a full moon tonight, and they were going to stop the bastard before he hurt anyone again. They just had to make sure they had the right guy before they filled him full of silver slugs.

"I don't know." She rubbed the back of her neck and willed the short hairs to stop standing on end. "Nothing. It's nothing." Marcus didn't look convinced, but she glanced across the street into the bar window and noticed their quarry was gone.

"Shit!" she cursed. "Where'd he go?"

* * *

A/N: Have a happy and safe New Year everyone!


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: Kripke's toys, my sandbox. Thanks for letting me play.

**Chapter 17**

"_We don't know where they are," Anna __stressed to him._

"_I can find them," he answered, looking at his palm and feeling the deep connection he had with the elder Winchester. The mark he left on Dean's shoulder formed a bond so powerful only death could break it. And Dean was still alive._

"_Come on." He closed his eyes, grabbed the other two's hands and let the mark pull him towards his friend._

* * *

"Run!" Sam gasped, digging his fingers into Dean's shirt and trying to convey how important it was for him to get out of there. The building was shaking all around them and Sam's eyes were wide with fear.

"I'm not leaving you here, Sammy. Come on!" His hands shook as he tried to help his brother into a sitting position so that he could get him standing. Sam screamed as the knife jostled in his chest.

"Fuck, Sam! I'm sorry!"

"Get it out," he panted, bubbles of blood forming at the corners of his mouth.

"Sammy, I…" he hesitated. Pulling the blade free would just as likely kill him.

"Please, Dean, it hurts so bad."

He steeled his nerves and wrapped his hand firmly around the bone handle. Sam winced painfully and sucked in breath between his clenched teeth as Dean pulled the blade free. An ear-piercing scream to match the groaning metal and concrete filled the air along with the wet, sucking sound of the knife coming free.

"Take it," Sam gasped, feebly pushing at his brother's hands that tried to put pressure on the gushing wound. "Take the knife and go! Lucifer is coming."

"But I killed her. He's still trapped."

"A trick... Bitch was the final seal."

_**FUCK!**_

"Sammy…" His voice pleaded, trying to put his hands back over the seeping wound and Sam tried to brush him away.

"Just go, before he comes for me."

"Who? Lucifer?"

_He's delirious_.

"I'm his vessel. Please go. Get outta here."

"I'm not leaving you here for Lucifer to chew on!" Dean growled, anger and betrayal filling him. He helped Sam into a sitting position again, ignoring the color that was leeching out of his brother's face and the groan of pain he let out as his stab wound leaked blood everywhere. He looped Sam's arm over his shoulder and grabbed onto the guy's belt and hefted him to his feet. They almost lost their balance when another blast of power shifted the building's foundations. Tiles from the drop ceiling jittered out of their tracks and fell to the floor. He held onto the belt and kept a tight hold to Sam's arm and started to drag him from the room and the surrounding carnage.

"Leave me here!" he hissed, holding his free hand to his wound. "Please Dean! You have to get out of here!"

"Not without you, so quit arguing." He pulled his brother down one of the many halls, hoping that he'd be able to get out of this fucking rabbit warren of a warehouse. He didn't really remember the route he took to get there as he was pretty concerned about the demons chasing him and Bobby blowing himself to bits.

_Fuck… Bobby…_

And the Impala was so far away…

"Dean…" Sam panted, lifting his blood covered hand from his chest to point up ahead.

Dean glanced to where Sam was pointing. Demons. Lots of them.

* * *

The pain was beyond anything he'd ever felt before. Having the demon queen dying inside his body, clawing at his soul to take him with her and leave his empty body behind for Lucifer had been the most excruciating thing he'd ever endured. Lilith cackling with glee as she died, knowing her mission was complete and her lord and master about to be freed to burn the world to ash. He clung to his body though, finally able to kick the bitch out of his head although she fought him tooth and nail to take him with her. It was his only hope to help Dean get away – the well from which he drew the final vestiges of strength he had. He had to hold on; he had to warn Dean what was happening so that he could get away. And Bobby, he had to tell his brother about Bobby…

Tremors wracked his body and he seemed to tremble around the knife blade piercing him, until he realized it was the entire building shaking.

_He's coming_. The clarion call of his fear rocketed around his skull as abject terror took hold and froze everything else. Everything but one thought.

_Dean…_

He had to warn Dean. He dug his fingers into Dean's shirt, knowing that Dean realized the whore was gone and it was just him in control of the ship again. "Run!"

But Dean wasn't listening to reason. He insisted on getting the both of them out of there, and Sam could have cried when Dean insisted on saving him. He was a goner, and he knew it. The only thing he could hope for was that Dean take the damned knife and get the hell out of there before Satan burst in looking for a meat puppet. Lilith had said that the devil didn't need permission to take his body if he were dead, so he didn't know if his idea would work or not, but he was hoping that holding on to life long enough to tell Lucifer to go fuck himself and that he couldn't have his body would be enough that the archangel couldn't have his bones to torch the planet. It was a slim shot, but the only one he had. If only Dean would run and save his own ass for once.

* * *

Dean stared down the hallway at the waiting demons. He felt the weight of Sam's body heavily on his shoulders. He let go of his grip on Sam's arm around his neck to grip the knife tight but he still held onto Sam's belt to keep him upright. A fall now would likely kill him.

_We are so fucked_.

"Where you two going?" one Neanderthal of a demon stepped forward from the rest. "Where's the boss lady?" Most of the other demons were looking on with blood in their eyes. The others were warily watching the walls and the falling dust and looking anxious to get out of there. He wondered if they could feel what was coming like how Ruby said she could pick up other demon's powers like radio frequencies. Lucifer must feel like a freaking A-bomb.

"Being reincarnated as a shit maggot for all I care," Dean tossed back, gripping the knife so tight his knuckles turned white.

"Dean, run," Sam whispered. "I'll hold them off."

"You can't stand," he whispered back, clenching Sam's belt tighter.

Neanderthal stepped forward, rubbing his fists and looking eager. He charged at them. Dean braced for the impact but Sam's hand shot up, halting the demon in its tracks. A look of shock crossed his hairy, heavy face as he seemed to glide towards them and right into Sam's hand. Sam gave him a sickly, hungry look before he buried his face in the douche's neck like he was making out with him, only the demon screamed and blood spurted everywhere and Dean was too close to the whole fucking thing, smelling the B.O. of the guy and hearing Sam slurping back the blood before he shoved the demon away and black smoke curled out of him and into the floor.

"So who's next?" Sam called, still sounding hungry and blood all over his face to match the blood seeping out of his chest. Sam held out his hands at the congregation of demons, white sparks zapping between his outstretched fingers and the building shaking all around them. A blink of the eye and the demons were gone and the way was clear.

"Come on," Dean huffed, readjusting his hold on his brother and trying not to look at Sam's face or smell the blood on his breath. Sam sank against him, clearly, whatever wells he'd delved for the strength to stand up to the demon hoard was all tapped out.

"Just leave me here. Get out."

"You're supposed to be the smart one, can't you figure out that I ain't leaving you behind? Semper Fi, Sammy."

"We're not marines, Dude."

"No. We're brothers." Dean tightened his hold and started forward again. Sam had nothing left and his feet dragged as his body slumped against him. Never once in his life had he ever thought of Sam as a weight around his neck, and he wasn't about to now, now that he literally was.

The building shook around them, windows shattering and doors swinging wildly on their hinges. A sudden blast of energy sent both of them careening into a wall where Sam let out a grunt and fully collapsed.

"SAM!" he gripped his brother's chin and shook his face. "SAM!"

Panic reached down his throat and seized his heart, giving it a good squeeze in the bargain. The warehouse was dancing on its foundations, glass and dust raining down everywhere and Sam was fucking _out_. He wasn't dead because the blood was still seeping in time to a fading heartbeat. He looked back down the hall to the room at the end where the fight had happened, and saw a glow of white light building behind the door that was opening and shutting with the building's vibrations.

Nothing about that light made him feel good, so he wrapped his arms under Sam's armpits and across his chest, ignoring the warm, sticky blood oozing over his hands, and he started to drag his brother out, size fourteens bumping over debris and fallen ceiling tiles.

"I am not leaving you here for him," he growled under his breath. He could feel the demon blade tucked into his belt, knowing that it was no match for an archangel – let alone one that's been pent up for a few millennia and suffering from a huge case of daddy-issues, but if he had to stand between Satan and his brother with nothing but a fucking toothpick… he'd do it.

"You can't have him," he snarled at the growing light, and started to pull faster.

* * *

He could feel the bands of iron around his chest. The bands that were going to kill him. It was all he could do to hold on and not let the beckoning blackness take him. That was a one way street and there was nothing he could do for anyone if he took that path. There was no way to let Dean know that his trying to save him was actually killing him faster. He had to save his strength for Lucifer and the big NO, and the blood he just drank was already burning away, his death throes eating its way through the demon juice and looking hungrily at him for more energy to fill its ravenous maw.

_Go fuck yourself_, he cursed at it, clasping onto the last threads of his life.

The iron bands that were his brother's arms gripped him tighter, and he anchored himself onto those bands. If he'd ever inherited John Winchester's iron will and pigheaded stubbornness – God, let him harness those powers now.

* * *

They were back in the open room where Bobby made his final stand. He averted his eyes and tried not to look at the mutilated bodies and limbs strewn around. He certainly wasn't going to look for pieces of his friend and mentor in the bloodied mess surrounding them. He heaved Sam's heavy body around lumps of flesh and bone, praying not to recognize an article of clothing or anything. He closed his eyes and glanced away from a severed hand. It was small and definitely feminine so it didn't belong to the scrap dealer, but he didn't want to look at it anyway. His gaze however landed on something useful and he opened his eyes again. Flickering faintly was a red exit sign above a door.

_Halle-fucking-lu__jah._

He lugged Sam over to the door, pushed aside a few pieces of plywood that definitely were in violation of the fire code, he pushed the metal bar and was greeted by cool night air kissing his face. Never had he been so glad to see fucking stars. He turned back to grab his brother when the warehouse rocked and a violent blast of light erupted and barreled down the hall at them like a pyroclastic cloud.

He dove and covered Sam, shielding him with his body and feeling the light burn at him as it rushed past. One of the sheets of plywood fell over onto them and helped deflect the heat. He screamed as part of his jacket smoldered, and he smelled roasting flesh and hair, knowing whose flesh was cooking as he felt his own skin bubble and burst. The air was superheated and he closed his mouth and swallowed his screams so that he wouldn't sear his throat and lungs. He could only wrap himself around Sam and protect him as best as he could.

The fire shot out the open door, taking every window in the place out with it. The sudden silence was deafening and he shoved the plywood off as he uncoiled himself from around Sam's chest and face. Every part of him was in molten agony and he didn't know how he was going to get Sam outside because he knew that the main attraction was still to come. That what just happened was just the blast furnace door to hell opening up to let the Big Kahuna out.

He reached out and grabbed Sam around the chest, crying out when the skin on his back stretched and tore and oozed. He tried not to look at his hands that were red with angry burns and he did his best to ignore the pain of his flesh sliding around over his meat. He tried to ignore it, but it was pretty insistent. The only thing that was comparable was his unable-to-die time in hell, but he was still alive so more bonus points for the humans. Sam looked to have fared better than he did. His shaggy hair was burnt down to next to nothing, but his face and hands were only slightly red. Besides, Lucifer about to make his grand entrance was a good motivator to move his ass no matter how bad it hurt.

He gripped Sam's hands and bellowed out as the pain racked through him but he held on and pulled anyway. The door was only three feet away, and what was on the other side was no safe haven, but it was better than just giving up and sitting here, waiting for the devil to appear and steal his brother away from him. He tried not to think of Ben and what this failure would mean. He could only hope that Missouri would run with the boy and keep running for as long as they were able to. He could only hope that Missouri's mojo would keep them one step ahead of the fuglies. He didn't let his mind dwell on what would happen when there was nowhere else to run and they were captured. He grit his teeth and pulled again, feeling the cool night air beckoning him. One more heave and they were over the threshold and he kicked the metal door shut after him.

_See if you can break past that, Lucifer…_ he giggled to himself. For some reason he was thinking of the Velociraptors in Jurassic Park and how they learned to open doors. _Lucy's been locked up since before the invention of door knobs – right?_

"There you are," a voice called out from behind him. His stomach dropped and his bowels froze as he turned on the spot. A black eyed sonofawhore was standing there with a group of his buddies, and they looked eager for a fight. "Baby Bro hasn't got the stones to eat us this time?"

"Do you know what's happening here, you douchewad?" he jeered at the guy.

"Feel's like someone big is coming."

"Doesn't it make you skeptical, that I was the final seal, I'm still alive, yet *_heyuk_,* '_someone big_' is coming?" He put as much derision and hate he felt for the crowd in front of him into his insult.

"Why should I be nervous if it's the devil coming? That's what we were all working for. However we got here, who cares – we're fucking here."

"If Lilith lied to you all about the final seal, what else did she lie to you about?"

"Like what?" he replied derisively.

"Like how maybe Lilith and Lucifer were planning on taking over the world, and then destroying you guys? What the hell does Lucifer need you demons for once he's killed off everything else?" He was grasping at straws, but what he was yammering about made a bit of sense, and it seemed to be spreading to the circle of demons in front of them. Some of them were muttering to each other and a bit of dissention in the ranks was a good thing. Hell, it couldn't hurt.

"I think the boiled lobster is trying to start some shit, boys." The demon started walking towards them and Dean grabbed the knife in his burnt hands and got ready for another fight when a couple figures appeared out of nowhere. One was wearing a familiar tan colored trench coat and he honestly didn't know if he wanted to hug the guy or stab him in the neck with Ruby's knife. But Cas was standing in front of him like an avenging… well, _angel_… and another guy started white-lighting the demons and he recognized Anna in the trio and he knew that Anna had been on the run from Zachariah so maybe she had brought Cas back from the dark side like Luke did for Vader.

Either way, Cas, Anna and the old guy angel were laying waste to the demons in a hurry and all he had to do was stand there looking pretty as a boiled ham while they did all the work.

There was a terrible, ground shaking explosion and he fell down next to Sam. He shook the stars out of his vision and saw the ground splitting open not thirty yards from where they were standing. A white light like a Hollywood spotlight shone straight up into the air and Dean noticed the purple storm clouds roiling in towards it as if being sucked into a black hole.

"Cas!" Anna cried out. "Get them out of here!" She swung a fist at the advancing demon and smote him into non-existence.

Cas whirled around in a flutter of disheveled fabric and reached out his two index fingers on both hands and touched him and Sam on the forehead. The world dissolved and faded to black, and when he opened his eyes, they were laying on beds in a quiet, non-descript motel room, and Cas was leaning pensively against the edge of the bureau. Dean looked down at his hands and noticed they were no longer burnt and his back was no longer on fire.

"What the fuck just happened?" he demanded of the angel.

"We have bigger problems, Dean." Cas nodded towards Sam and Dean felt his blood run cold. Sam was way too still.

* * *

A/N: Can't wait for the show to start up again soon. Totally going through withdrawal here. I had the entire chapter with them as shirtless before I realized that that didn't fit the chapter and had to put their clothes back on. _Sigh…_


	18. Chapter 18

Disclaimer: Kripke's toys, my sandbox. Thanks for letting me play.

**Chapter 18**

"_Cas!" Anna cried out. "Get them out of here!" She swung a fist at the advancing demon and smote him into non-existence._

_Cas whirled around in a flutter of disheveled fabric and reached out his two index fingers on both hands and touched him and Sam on the forehead. The world dissolved and faded to black, and when he opened his eyes, they were laying on beds in a quiet, non-descript motel room, and Cas was leaning pensively against the edge of the bureau. Dean looked down at his hands and noticed they were no longer burnt and his back was no longer on fire._

"_What the fuck just happened?" he demanded of the angel._

"_We have bigger problems, Dean." Cas nodded towards Sam and Dean felt his blood run cold. Sam was way too still._

* * *

"Sam!" he cried, throwing himself from the bed to his brother's side. He gripped Sam's chin and shook it. "Sam! SAM!"

He turned angrily on the angel. "Don't just stand there! Save him! Angel him back to health!"

"I am afraid I cannot do that, Dean."

"Why the fuck not? Why save us only to let him die!"

"Saving him comes with a cost, Dean. With Lucifer free, it may be kinder to let him die and destroy his body."

"Don't talk like that to me you sonofabitch!" Dean strode across the room and got nose to nose with the angel, jabbing a finger into his chest. "Not after everything I went through to get him back. Fix him!"

"It is not a price to be taken lightly." It seemed like Cas was trying to tell him something without telling him something and Dean really didn't have time for the fucking holy-head-games right now cuz his brother was fucking _**dying**_ ten feet away.

"I don't care what it costs, Cas," he growled. "Do it. I'll do anything you want me to."

"It's not a price for only you to pay. It will be yours _**and**_ Sam's payment to make." Cas said it with those cold blue eyes of his staring dead into his own and Dean felt a shiver run down his spine. "Please understand the enormity of the situation."

"No. What ever you want, I'll do it. Leave Sam out of it – he's been through enough."

"I'm afraid that it must be Sam too."

"What will we have to do?" Cas averted his eyes and looked off towards the small kitchenette instead of answering him. "Damn it Cas! What do you want from us?"

"He's fading fast." It didn't escape Dean that the angel still hasn't answered his fucking question.

"Cas!"

The jerk cocked his head sideways in that way he does and said softly, "You're losing him."

It was then that Dean realized what was going on. Cas wanted to save Sam but couldn't without a holy contract – a heavenly crossroads deal. Dean wanted to ask him a hundred questions, like what the hell was going on and where the fuck has he been the last few weeks. Why did he come swooping in to save them at the last possible fucking minute and why was he acting all guilty and secretive instead of just angeling Sam back to the world of the living. Plus he didn't know if he could trust the guy. Where had he been when he needed him? Why did he abandon them when the world was falling apart? _I serve heaven. I don't serve man and I certainly don't serve you_, was ringing through his brain as that was the last thing Cas had said to him when he bailed on them, leaving him with the terrified remnants of Jimmy's family and a blood-orgied Sam and the fucking apocalypse resting on their shoulders.

And he did want to punch the guy then. He wanted to haul off and smash him in the face, wanted to break his nose and feel the crunch of cartilage under his knuckles and see the blood spraying all over the boring cream colored walls of the motel room.

The angel tilted his head to the other side, scrutinizing him in a way that reminded Dean that Cas probably could sense every emotion that passed through his over-stressed mind. And he might have been imagining it, but it looked as if Cas wanted him to punch him, and maybe all the crap that they were swimming in might only have been partially his fault, but he was ready to take the brunt of the blame regardless to balance the scales between them. Dean tightened his fist at his side, ready to slug the douche that used to be his friend.

"You're losing him," the angel reminded him, not taking blue ice from green rage.

"Okay! Okay! Just save him!"

"Do you promise to serve heaven in the fight to stop Lucifer?" Castiel demanded.

"Yes."

"Do you vow on your life that your brother will not turn to Lucifer?"

"What?"

"If Sam agrees to be Lucifer's vessel, it will be your life that is forfeit – not his."

He didn't even think about the consequences of what he was agreeing to. "YES! Now save him you bastard!"

Cas crossed the room in a flutter of tan fabric, resting one knee on the bed next to Sam's body as he hovered over him. A small silver knife appeared in his hand and Dean could only watch transfixed as the angel cut open his brother's shirt and spread the material to the sides. Dean could see the stab wound in the sea of blood next to where his heart would be. If the dark angry hole was another inch towards the center, Sam would not have survived the fight. Honestly, Dean didn't know how Sam made it this far and could only attribute it to that John Winchester stubbornness that ran deep in both their veins.

Dean moved as silently as he could, not wanted to disrupt the angel as his lips moved and whispered words that held no meaning to the elder Winchester other than the accompanying prayer he was whispering in his head.

_Please work, please work…_

Cas held his hand out over Sam's bared chest, the silver knife glinting in the low light as it was poised over the angel's palm. A quick movement and the angel had sliced his hand open and pressed the wound to the one on Sam's ribs. Cas pressed his uninjured palm to his brother's forehead and his lips kept moving in his whispered Enochian as light started to spread between the outstretched fingers pressed to Sam's chest. Sam buckled, trying to get away from the hands on him and Dean had to fight down every instinct he had to not tackle the angel to get him off his brother.

More light filled the room. Sam's back was arched in pain, teeth clenched in biting back a scream, white light pouring out of both of Cas's hands and eyes. Dean turned his head and closed his eyes, knowing that to look on that light would burn the eyeballs right out of his skull. He could see the veins in his eyelids and he buried his face in the crook of his arm to better protect his eyes.

Then the light was gone and Cas stopped muttering his angel-magic. He cautiously peeked out from behind his arm and saw the room back to its normal low light and Sam was slumped unconscious on the bed. Dean caught the last glimmers of white light leaching back into Cas's finger tips as he shook the cuff of his shirt back down. He closed his fist and re-opened it to reveal that the gash was gone. The angel moved from Sam's side and Dean saw a hand print burned into his brother's chest that perfectly matched the one on his own shoulder. He touched his shoulder without thinking, knowing every curve of the shape without having to see it.

"Is he… did he…?" he stuttered, unable to ask the question if his brother made it because he was so still.

"He needs rest," Cas spoke, standing to face him. "I had to pull him back."

He pushed past the angel and kneeled on the side of the bed, pressing a hand to his brother's chest and feeling the reassuring thump of a heartbeat beneath warm flesh. Tears burnt his eyes and he swiped them away, unable to take one hand off his brother that had been pulled back from the brink. He felt his shoulders tremble as he fought back the tears of relief that threatened to course through him. Sam was alive.

"Dean," Cas interrupted him after a moment. "I'm sorry, but we have much to discuss."

He swallowed thickly and nodded, standing from the bed and pulling a chair out from the kitchenette table. He rubbed his palms over his eyes to press the emotions away and he opened them to see a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue Label on the table.

_Thank you, Cas_, he thought as he twisted off the cap and took a long pull off the bottle instead of using the glass that was next to the bottle. The alcohol burnt its way down his throat and formed a warm pool in his empty stomach. He didn't know when the last time he ate was and his stomach growled accordingly.

"You are hungry," the angel stated, reaching for the bottle in the hunter's hand. Dean gave it up to him and watched the angel sniff the neck and wrinkle his nose before handing it back.

"It's not important," Dean muttered, taking another swallow himself. Lowering the bottle, he saw the room was empty. "Damn it Cas! Where'd you go!"

"I am here, Dean," a soft voice said from next to him. The angel was holding a pizza box in his hands, and he wasn't alone.

"Anna!" he cried, putting the whiskey bottle on the table and gripping the redhead in a bone crushing hug. She tensed for a second before allowing herself to hug him back.

"It's alright, Dean. We're here to help."

"What happened to you?"

"We were incarcerated," she said as she pulled back. "The other angels were working against God."

"Angel jail?" he asked incredulously. The smell of the pizza made his stomach growl again and he was torn between eating and getting to the bottom of this mess.

Cas flipped the top of the box open. "You eat, we will talk and answer your questions."

Movement at the corner of his eyes drew his attention to an old dude hovering over Sam. Dean recognized him from outside the warehouse fighting with Cas and Anna, but that didn't mean he wanted him near his newly-alive-again brother. "Hey! Get away from him!"

"Very interesting," the old dude muttered, not caring about the outburst from the human.

"What's interesting!" he demanded, striding over to the angel and ready to put himself between him and Sam if he had to.

"Dean," Cas reached for him, gripping his shoulder and holding him back. "Nyan means your brother no harm."

Nyan touched a wrinkled finger to Sam's collar bone and Dean tried to shrug Cas off him and get this old fart away from his brother. "What are you doing? Don't touch him!"

But it was too late. A small glow dampened from the angel's fingertips and he straightened and headed for him. "I've done him no harm, only helped to protect him." Nyan pressed a finger to his chest and Dean felt a quick flash of heat pass through him and was gone with only the warm puddle of whiskey to keep him company.

"What the hell was that?" Dean demanded, angry and scared that there were three of these beings in the room and he was helpless against them if they wanted to hurt him and his brother. Only… they just saved them both, right? So why harm them now, unless it was more trickery? The feeling of being used again welled up within him and he felt his fist ball up again. Ruby's warning that the angels had set him up was echoing in his brain, but… Ruby had also said that he was the final seal, and it wasn't his death that set Lucy free, it was Lilith's… and now his head was hurting trying to work it all out.

"Do not get angry," Nyan waved a hand and wandered over to the pizza box. He lifted a slice, sniffed at it, took a gingerly nibble from the end and placed it back in the box. "Please," he gestured at the chair and pizza. "Sit. Eat. We will discuss much."

"What did you just do to me and my brother?" he snarled, standing his ground.

"I've helped you," Nyan sat at the opposite chair and waved the bottle of blue label under his nose. He took a delicate sip and his eyes flashed with appreciation. "You know, it has been many millennia since I've been on Earth. This is all so vastly different from the Babylonian period."

"What did you do to us?" Dean ground out, shrugging off Anna's small hand from his shoulder.

"I've protected you," Nyan said simply, pouring some whiskey into the unused glass and holding it up to the light to admire the light dancing in its amber depths. "You will both be highly sought after, Sam especially as he's Lucifer's true vessel, and Michael will want to meet you, I'm sure."

"Michael? As in the Archangel Michael?"

"As in the Leader of the Heavenly Host, Michael. Yes."

"Why would Michael give a shit about me?"

"You are his true vessel." Nyan tossed back the glass of whiskey and poured himself another. He offered the bottle up to the hunter as he staggered on his feet and only Anna's hand on his elbow kept him from falling to the ground with the admission that he too was a vessel. Anna led him towards the table and he sank into the seat opposite the wrinkled angel and took the bottle and upended it into his mouth, chugging the expensive whiskey like cheap beer at a Frat Kegger.

"We're _both_ vessels?" he gasped as he pulled the bottle from his lips.

"Important ones," Nyan agreed, poking at the pizza box and inching it his way. "I imagine the demons will want to capture you once they learn of it. That is why I've given you and your brother some added protection."

"What did you do?" He glanced between Nyan, Cas and Anna, wondering why neither of them had told him that he and Sam were angel Trojans before.

"I've marked your soul with protection wards. Neither of you will ever be able to be possessed by demons, you will not be able to be tracked by demons – or angels for that matter – and you will be able to call for help wherever you are in the world if you need it."

"You're hiding us from angels too? So if I walk out of here, you won't be able to find us?"

"That is correct, but I am trusting what I've learned of you from Castiel that you won't do that. He thinks quite highly of you, you know."

"Who are you?" he narrowed his eyes at the old man across the table from him. Anna was behind him, resting her hands on his shoulders.

"Nyan is the Keeper of Records, Dean," Anna spoke softly next to his ear. "After God, the Archangels and Death himself, Nyan is one of the oldest beings in the universe."

"Was he locked up with you two?"

"Yes, and so were plenty of others."

"If he's so high up the food chain, how was he in angel jail! Who the fuck got the jump on Father Time!" He was angry and he couldn't control himself, even though a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Bobby's told him to shut his idjit mouth and not to piss off the guy who could squash him like a June-bug.

"There are other's that share my station," he said, not caring about the outburst. "Torrin you wouldn't know, but I'm told you've had the pleasure of meeting Zachariah."

Dean couldn't stop his hand from clenching at the mention of the smarmy douchebag's name. "Yeah, we've met."

Nyan smiled at him reading the anger in his eyes. "Yes, I'm not too pleased with my brother at the moment either. His treachery is an abomination."

"Okay, lets get back on track here," he growled, not wanting to get into the angel's family issues because he had enough of his own, for starters, like how he and Sam were vessels. "Sam and I are vessels for Lucifer and Michael. How long have we been vessel worthy and why did no one tell us?"

"Sam since birth." Cas broke his brooding silence. "You were an unknown. Remember when I tried to show myself to you after I freed you from the pit? You couldn't perceive my true form and I was confused because you should have been able to. It has become clear to me now that you hadn't accepted your role at that time."

"But I have now?"

"You just vowed to serve Heaven in exchange for your brother's life to be saved."

"So you've just handed me over to Michael?" He stood, ready to beat the crap outta the geeky angel.

"He didn't hand you over to anyone," Nyan interrupted. "Sit down, please."

Dean sat, but only because he knew the old guy would make him sit if he wanted to and Dean didn't want to give him that sort of power over him. "He just admitted that he knocked the soap outta my hands so that Michael can ream me a new one, and you're saying he didn't?"

"I have given you protection, or have you forgotten that already? Michael cannot track you. If he finds you it is another matter, he can still take your body _**if**_ you give him permission. I would suggest you don't do that – it would destroy you just as your brother allowing Lucifer to take him would destroy him as well."

"But Sam giving permission to Lucifer to take his body will forfeit your life, and we are counting on his love and loyalty to you to keep that from happening." Cas at least had the balls to keep his eyes locked on his during his explanation. "To save Sam's life required a sacrifice. I'm sorry, but you had to make the decision yourself by your own free will. There are rules in play that cannot be broken, but I bent them as much as I could."

"Well thanks a helluva lot there, Buddy," he groused, pulling the pizza towards him and picking up a slice. There really should be some food in his stomach to go along with the gallon of whiskey he was planning on drowning himself in. "So what happens now?"

"We wait for Sam to come around."

"What were you saying before about Sam's price to pay?" The pizza slice stopped mid-way to his mouth as he spoke, remembering the deal he had agreed to to save his brother's life, which inarguably screwed up his own life like two drunk virgins in the backseat on prom-night.

"Sam is in a remarkable position," Nyan butted in, pushing the Blue Label at him. "He was always a vessel for Lucifer – that was decided for him generations ago as it's been passed down through your lineage. But Azazel feeding him demon blood as a baby cultivated certain powers in him that otherwise would not have surfaced. I am unsure why Azazel zeroed in on your family like he did. Perhaps he sensed something in your mother and father's union, or perhaps he was sent their way by one of my plotting brethren. Regardless, Sam is in a unique position to straddle lines neither humans nor angels can."

"What. Does. That. Mean?" he growled.

"Your brother may be the key to destroying Lucifer and stopping the apocalypse."

Dean started choking on air and could feel the whiskey threatening to make a reappearance. Anna thumped him on the back a few times and the choking passed.

_Sam is the key to stopping this hell ride?_

"It is forbidden," Nyan continued on as if Dean hadn't almost had a coronary, "…for one Archangel to kill another. If Michael and Lucifer were to have you, they would fight and try to imprison the other as they did before, destroying the planet and yourselves in the process. Remember the Ice Age?" Dean nodded dumbly, still trying to wrap his head around Sam being the key to saving the planet. How could Sam be the one to bear something as heavy as this? The guy was afraid of clowns for fuck sakes. "Your brother bears the lines of a vessel, and the blood of the oldest demons, and now the blood of angels." He nodded at Castiel at that point. "It has never been thought of to cross those lines – never been dared. Sam has the ability to harness powers never seen in human history. Where Michael is forbidden to kill Lucifer, and I am not powerful enough to try, Sam, as a hybrid of sorts, could have the advantage we are looking for."

"Could have…" he deadpanned, not liking those odds at all. It sounded as if they were basing everything off some cockamamie theory some drunk angel scrawled on the back of a brothel napkin during a cosmic blow job. "Could have?" he bellowed. "You want to throw Sam at Lucifer, where my brother might save the planet, or he might have his molecules smeared across the galaxy?" He had a sudden image of Wile E. Coyote strapped to a rocket with a little sign saying _yipes_.

"Sam would be trained, Dean," Anna put her hands back on his shoulders and tried to reassure him. He shrugged her off him, turning in his seat to glare at her.

"Trained? Is that supposed to make me feel better about all this? Trained by who?"

"Raphael would be the best candidate," Cas said in his slow voice. "Raphael cannot use him as a vessel, and Raphael's abhorrence for Lucifer's betrayal is widely known. He would want Sam to win."

"So Raphael isn't one of the douches that jumpstarted this mess?"

"No. The Archangels were unaware of what was happening. Torrin and Zachariah betrayed the garrisons in their own search for power."

"So I should just trust my brother to a ninja turtle, cuz the ninja turtles never did anything bad to humanity, right? Don't you remember how lousy the back in time movie was?"

"Turtles…?" Cas looked at him confusedly, and Dean just shook his head in irritation.

"Look, I'm not trusting Sam with some douche who wants to turn him into Lucifer's own personal A-bomb."

"Dean," Anna said gently as she knelt beside his chair and took one of his hands in her own. He pushed aside the urge to rip his hand out of hers and shove her to the ground. "Dean, like it or not, Sam is our only hope. Right now, Lucifer is searching for his secondary vessels, and once he has them, he will start his revenge on Earth and all the humans on it."

"Secondary vessels?"

"Sam is his true vessel, just as you are now Michael's true vessel. But there are others out there capable of containing them for a short time. He will burn his way through them eventually, and he will not reach his full power while in them, but he will wreak much havoc with them."

"So why aren't you searching for them too? Why aren't you trying to save them from all this?"

"We don't know where they are. And we've bent the rules as much as we could already. To interfere any more could spell disaster for our side."

"What happens when we break the rules?"

"To a human? Nothing. Your free will is a power all in its own. An angel that breaks the rules is wiped from existence."

"And you think Lucifer and the demons will play by the rules?" he scoffed at her.

"Lucifer has too, or else he can only bend the rules as far as we have. I'm certain he will."

"So is hiding from Lucifer out of the question?"

"You could hide if you want to," Nyan's authoritative voice cut in. "I gave you that option myself. But it will not stop Lucifer from destroying everything you hold dear. And you hold human life very dearly, don't you, Dean."

He felt tears burning behind his eyes as he turned to face Cas. "So did I already agree that Sam would do this? Is that part of the heavy price you warned me against?"

"No." And Dean felt himself sag with relief. "Sam has his own free will and can reject us if he wishes. It will be his choice. But you should know that you will only be able to hide for so long with the world burning around you and every demon, angel and rogue angel looking for you."

"There is no safe haven in hiding, Dean," Anna whispered. "Eventually the apocalypse will find you and you will have to make a stand on one side of the line or the other."

The heaviness of that statement shook him to the core. "You know I won't side with Lucifer," he whispered back, swiping at a tear with the back of his hand.

"I know you won't. Just as I know that Sam won't either, and that he'll fight to stop this because you are both brave and selfless."

"It's too much."

"I know. But you are not alone. We have stymied Lucifer and Michael by denying them their true vessels. They cannot do as much damage in their secondary vessels. And we will be there every step of the way in this fight. I will stay with Sam during his training if he chooses that path. I promise you I will protect him and help him, and if it seems that Raphael is in league with Lucifer, I will get him out and hide him from them or die trying."

Dean hung his head and let everything seep in. He was a vessel. Sam was a vessel. And they were destined to destroy the world in a biblical cage match designed by God himself.

_Fucking great_. His life sucked epically.

Something Nyan said a moment ago nagged at him. It merged with a fact he learned a few weeks ago when Cas had taken Jimmy's daughter as a vessel. Bloodlines. And at that moment his veins turned to ice as the danger Ben was in filled him. If he were a vessel, then he'd passed that curse onto his son.

He stood and pulled his cell from his pocket. Flipping it open, he scrolled down and hit Missouri's name. It took forever to connect, and he turned his back on the three angels by the table who were watching him. It rang three times, and each ring was a coffin nail being driven into his brain, but after the third ring, the connection clicked open.

"_Dean…?_" Missouri's tired, on-edge voice filled his ear and he nearly wept. "_Dean, what is it? Are you alright?_"

"Yeah, I'm okay. Sam too for the moment."

"_Thank God_," she sighed.

"Don't thank him yet – he screwed us over royally. Grab the kid and go." He didn't want to say any names in case the angels could hear and he wanted Missouri off the line before she said something that would give them away. He might be putting his life in the angel's hands, but he wasn't putting his kid's life on their radar and he certainly wasn't letting Michael near him. Ben would not be a disposable B-string-vessel burn-out.

"_What?_"

"Don't say anything, just run and keep running. Tell me you understand."

"_I'll be gone in five minutes._"

"If anyone calls pretending to be me, do _**not**_ tell them where you are. Be careful." He flipped his phone shut and turned to face the incredulous angels.

"What did you just do?" Cas whispered.

"None of your fucking business," he shot back. Cas's face turned dark with anger but Nyan waved him down.

"You do not fully trust us."

"Way to state the obvious."

"We are trying to help you."

"You are using me and my brother to do your dirty work for you."

"There is no other way. It is ordained by God."

"Well God can go screw a goat for all I care."

"That is my Father you are insulting boy!" Nyan stood, anger filling his eyes and Dean felt the shift in air pressure as invisible wings unfurled and the lights flickered in and out. He swallowed down his fear as best as he could, considering how everyone in the room knew exactly who was the low man on the totem pole. Sam they needed, he was more expendable.

"Look, I'm committed to the fight." He pointed over to Sam sleeping peacefully on the bed. "Sam can make up his own mind when he wakes up – I am _**not**_ my brother's keeper." He ignored Cas rolling his eyes at what was likely another biblical screw up. "But until then, I'd like some time to sit with my brother, get some sleep and think about all that you slapped in front of me. Surely, you can give me that."

Nyan looked ready to smite him into oblivion but Anna bravely stood between them. Always the hopeful peacekeeper, she said. "Of course we can give him that, can't we Nyan? We have put so much on his shoulders, can't we allow him time to reflect? To seek Revelations?"

"We can do nothing until Sam awakens anyway," Cas added reluctantly. Whatever tension there was between him and the geeky angel, Cas was at least willing to back off for the moment.

"Very well," Nyan conceded. "Take this time to ponder your role in this war. But know this, if you plot against us, I will destroy you myself." There was a flutter of feathers and fabric, and Dean was alone in the motel with his brother, a bottle, and a whole host of new problems. He strode over to the table and grabbed the Blue Label by the neck. He could at least make the best of one of those items.

* * *

A/N: For anyone who is interested, picture Anthony Hopkins as Nyan. And don't forget that this is only canon up until the end of "The Rapture" and then it goes AU. I had planned on Sam and Dean being vessels before Kripke beat me to the punch, but I think a lot of us were thinking along those lines anyway because it was just so perfect for the storyline. Also, sorry for the delay in updating this week. Blame the b/f... I do.


	19. Chapter 19

Disclaimer: Kripke's toys, my sandbox. Thanks for letting me play.

**Chapter 19**

"_We can do nothing until Sam awakens anyway," Cas added reluctantly. Whatever tension there was between him and the geeky angel, Cas was at least willing to back off for the moment._

"_Very well," Nyan conceded. "Take this time to ponder your role in this war. But know this, if you plot against us, I will destroy you myself." There was a flutter of feathers and fabric, and Dean was alone in the motel with his brother, a bottle, and a whole host of new problems. He strode over to the table and grabbed the Blue Label by the neck. He could at least make the best of one of those items_.

* * *

It was a long ass drive from Denver to Wichita Falls, Texas. Twelve hours with the only thing to keep her company being the anger and loss burning away her gut. She kept reaching to touch the dog tags around her neck. Marcus and Bear. Her only family. _Gone_.

She pulled into the dirt parking lot of the underground club. The building wasn't underground – the club was. In a State where even thinking of a naked woman that wasn't your wife was illegal, this place thrived so long as everyone kept their mouths shut. A modern day Speak-Easy.

It wouldn't be kind to call "The Circus" a brothel. Hell, strip club was too harsh. If anything, it was more a burlesque house than anything else. Girls in skimpy costumes who sang and danced and put on a show to a cheering crowd. If some of those girls chose to do extra curricular business with the clientele – that was their choice. The girls got paid, the club made money, and everyone was as safe as possible. The Circus had never been successfully raided as far as Jenna knew. Clair Rivera, the proprietress, had a sixth sense when it came to cops. Hell… the woman had a sixth sense about everything which is why she drove all goddamn day to see the bitch. Clair had a rather unique talent when it came to finding things. If she could channel the image of something, or someone, with someone acquainted with the object, she could usually get a feel for where the thing was. Jenna knew that a few times, Clair had gone to the homes of missing people and helped the families recover their loved ones. Of course, no one told the cops anything about her. That was her price – she would help where she could, but no one told a soul about it. She and Marcus had brought Clair in on a few cases over the years. Jenna hated having to watch the woman throw herself at her man, but she could stomach it so long as Mr. and Mrs. Joe America got their kid back.

Jenna reached up and flipped down the sun visor to check the dark circles under her eyes. She looked like hell, but at least her eyes weren't red from tear stains anymore. The sun hung low and orange as it prepared to set. Marcus had been dead less than twenty-four hours, and here she was on her adversary's doorstep to ask for help. Marcus Wells would've laughed his ass off.

She shoved open the truck door and crossed the dusty lot. The place looked abandoned, and when she pulled on the heavy wooden door, it wouldn't budge. She banged on it a few times and a guy with a shaved head and no neck opened the door. He was as wide as the door, and she couldn't see past him to the dark gloom inside. He scrutinized her, squinting in the dying light as he looked her over.

"Club ain't open yet," his thick accent drawled.

"Do I look like a customer? I'm here to see Clair."

"What you want?"

"To see Clair." She felt like adding a _duh_ to the end of that but bit it off. Honey and vinegar and shit eating flies and all that. It wasn't as if she'd be able to push her way past the guy and pulling a gun on him likely wouldn't have the desired affect.

"What's yer business with the boss lady?"

"I'm here for a job interview." She smiled and tried to look perky, but in her own mind she looked like a moron and she knew she wasn't pulling it off.

He looked her over again, shaking his head disdainfully as he did so and she felt her fake smile melt away. "You don't look like any of the other girls."

"What? You think I walk around in public in my thong and heels? Open the damn door." Maybe the diva-ness would convince the lunk-head that she belonged.

"I dunno."

She couldn't help it when she snapped at him. "Look. Go in there and tell your boss that Jenna Marsh is here to see her. I guarantee that she wants to see me."

The walking fridge shut the door in her face and she crossed her arms over her chest as she waited for the door to open again. It did only a moment later. No-Neck opened the door wide and stood aside to let her in. He slid a bar over the door as she entered and the gloom engulfed her. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dimness and she started to walk behind the massive doorman through the club to a series of tables near the back.

"Clair said for you to wait here. You wanna drink or something?"

"A beer's fine. Anything cold will do." She pulled out a chair and dropped into it, fatigue eating at her dead heart. The doorman went up behind the bar and pulled a bottle of Bud out of the giant cooler. He twisted off the cap and tossed it on the counter, weaving his giant form between the small tables on the way back to her.

"Thanks," she muttered as he slid it in front of her and turned back for the door without acknowledging anything she said.

_Great people skills you got there, Pal._

She took a pull off the beer and closed her eyes as it trickled coolly down her parched throat. Driving from the lush, verdant greenery of the mountains down into this dust pit was a killer on the senses. She hadn't eaten anything today and her stomach growled when the beer hit it. She wondered if Clair would offer her a sandwich or something because she only had ten bucks in her pocket and she needed that for gas. She was too beat to hustle some bastard outta his money in a pool or card game. She was too tired for games and she didn't have time.

She sat there and watched as some of the working girls came out from backstage and did a run through of their latest routine. If she were a drunk, horny and desperate man, she would likely enjoy it. Or she would've at least got a chuckle out of it if she hadn't had her world torn to shreds last night and had Marcus next to her to make his normal sarcastic remarks. She took another deep drink from the beer and leaned back in her chair, pinching the bridge of her nose.

It was only another moment when she saw Clair making her way from the office behind the bar towards her. The psychic looked around and frowned as she came closer. Somehow, her odd green eyes in her dark face seemed to glow in the low light of the club.

"Where's Marcus?" Clair demanded. There was no love lost between the two women, but she came here for help and she was damn well going to get it.

"Dead. Last night."

Clair's hand covered her mouth and her eyes opened wide. "Oh, my God," she breathed as she sank into the opposite chair. She buried her face in her trembling hands and her shoulders shook as she started to sob.

"_How?_" she cried as she raised her head and tears leaked from those freakish green eyes of hers.

"We were on a hunt in Denver last night – werewolf – and we were up in the mountains when we got ambushed by some flying creatures I never seen before. One carried me off, but it dropped me in the lake and I got away. When I got back to where Marcus and Bear were, they were both dead."

"Oh, my God," she moaned into her hands again. Jenna didn't like the woman, but she couldn't begrudge her mourning the loss of Marcus. He had been a remarkable man who deserved a whole congregation of mourners and would never receive them. When the psychic pulled herself together a bit, she asked, "So why are you here? I doubt you came here just so you rub it into my face that he's gone. You got too much soul for that."

"I need your help." She leaned towards the bar owner and rested her elbows on the table top. "I don't know what those things were, I don't really know how to kill them other than drowning them, and I don't know how to find them to make them pay for killing Marcus and Bear. I need your help."

Clair wiped at a tear and gave her a confused look. "Drowning them?"

"When the one that dropped me into the lake – I kinda took her in there with me. She sank like a stone as soon as she hit water."

"I don't know what creature does that."

"Neither do I. I've never seen the like of them before."

"Come into my office where we won't be watched." She nodded over her shoulder at the girls on stage who were trying to make it look like they weren't glancing over at their boss and her strange guest. If the doorman had told them that she was here for a job interview, it might shed some light on why they were so interested in her. No-Neck had been right when he said she didn't look like the other girls that worked here.

Jenna followed her into the office behind the bar. The glaring light of the office was blinding after the murky darkness of the club.

"Sit," Clair gestured at a chair in front of the desk and went and got a black bundle from a filing cabinet drawer. She placed the bundle on the desk, moved some things out of the way and unfolded a worn black fabric over the desk top. There were white and silver markings on the cloth that Jenna didn't know, but she cared little for how the woman did her magic other than she got results. Clair laid out colored candles on different symbols, lit them and went to the wall to turn off the overhead fluorescents. The room was instantly bathed in flickering candlelight and the black woman dropped into her seat behind the desk.

"Think about what took you and give me your hands." The psychic held her hands out palm up on either side of the candles so that their arms would form a protective circle around the flames. She repressed a shudder as the image of the seven foot tall, bat-like naked women filled her thoughts. As soon as she laid her hands in Clair's, the bar owner gasped and pulled her hands away as if she'd been burnt.

'What? What is it?" Jenna shouted and jumped from her chair, wringing her hands together as if they were freezing. She hadn't felt a thing when the psychic touched her, but she knew better than to think that Clair was screwing with her. Marcus was dead, and the woman on the other side of the table was the best shot the little hunter had in finding out what the hell those vulture bitches were.

"Evil," Clair breathed. "Pure evil." The black woman took a few deep and steadying breaths before she opened up her hands on either side of the candles again. "Try it again."

Jenna sat again and placed her hands in Clair's, concentrating on the monsters that butchered her family. Clair grimaced but clasped her dark hands around the hunter's pale ones. "They're in a cave or something," Clair whispered. "They were sleeping… They're getting up with the sunset… I think they don't like the sun." Clair took a deep breath and squeezed her fingers but kept her eyes shut as she channeled the beasts. "These are dark creatures, Jenna. Very dark. I don't know what they are…"

Jenna could feel a thin sheen of sweat building on her forehead. She could see it all too clearly in her mind – the bitches stretching strong limbed bodies as they woke, black leathery wings unfurling against dark, jagged rock.

"How many of them are there?" she asked.

"Two of them."

"There were three that attacked us last night. Minus the one in the lake…"

"They're angry… so angry. I can see it like a dark aura around them."

"And you don't know what they are?"

"No. I've never seen their kind before either."

Jenna felt lost. She had tried to call Bobby on her drive down, stopping at a payphone and dialing from memory because her phone got fried in the lake, but she had been sent directly to voicemail. She left him a message about Marcus and the attack for all the good it would do. "I wish I could get a hold of Bobby," she admitted. "He'd probably know what they are."

"Singer?"

"Yeah, you know him?"

"Everyone in this business knows Bobby Singer," Clair snapped. Jenna tried to bite back a quick retort. She needed this woman's help and she wasn't going to get as far playing the jealous wife card as she would the level headed hunter out for revenge. "You just thinking of Bobby switched the signals on me," the psychic admonished her. "Think of the creatures. We'll nail down Bobby Singer after we're done."

So Jenna concentrated on the vulture women. She could feel sharp talons digging into her shoulders and she could hear the sharp hawk's cry they made as they swooped down on her, Marcus and Bear. She wanted to rub at her shoulders, but didn't dare break the connection for Clair. They were in a cave, but they didn't know where yet.

"I'm getting a better reading on them now, keep concentrating; you're doing great." Clair's eyes were squeezed tight and her fingers were strong bands around her own. Clair wanted justice for Marcus as much as she did, just as the little hunter knew she would. Clair was never a hunter herself, but she was in this world because of the gift she'd been born with – and she hated the evil out there as fervently as any hunter.

"They're getting ready to fly off; the sun is almost completely set… They're still in the mountains."

"Then they didn't go too far after they dropped me and killed Marcus."

"No. I don't think they did. Here they go… They're off. Wait!" Clair's beautiful face scrunched up as she concentrated on the scene in her mind. Jenna's heart froze as Clair squeezed her fingers tightly, fear crossing the psychic's face. "I'm… I'm getting something off them… It's like their anger – I can feel it… They're flying south… They know they have to go south and they don't like it because the days are longer down here. They know what they want is in the south… They feel it… calling to them like a beacon… South, south, south." Clair's eyes shot open and fear sparkled in the emerald depths, candlelight flickering in those crazy eyes of hers. "Jenna, I think they're after you."

"What makes you think they're after me?"

"I don't know, but I feel it. I can't explain it – but I know I'm right. They want you!"

"Maybe they want revenge on me for drowning their sister?" she offered, trying to keep the knifing fear at bay.

"Maybe. But how do they know you're south of them?"

"I don't know! Could I have left a scent trail or something?"

"All that distance, in your truck along with thousands of others on the highways with you! That's not possible!"

"I don't know!"

"Did they bite you? Did they mark you somehow?" Clair dropped her hands, breaking the ritual and jumped up to turn on the fluorescents.

"My shoulders got cut up a bit from their talons," she offered, backing up a step when the psychic advanced on her and reached for her shoulder. "Careful! They hurt!"

"Let me see. Maybe there was venom or something they can track." Clair was freaked, and was successfully freaking her out so she stripped her shirt off and showed her her back so that the other woman could see her hastily tended wounds. Clair ghosted her dark hands over her pale shoulders, inspecting the cuts inflicted on her. "I don't feel anything," she whispered as she gently probed the wounds. Jenna sucked in her breath as one poke hurt like a sonofabitch. "Sorry." Clair scrutinized them some more, but she stepped back with a sigh. "I don't know."

"I don't either," she replied, turning and pulling her t-shirt back over her head.

"Wait!" Clair shouted, reaching towards her.

"What is it?" Fear laced her voice as Clair grabbed the chain the dog tags were on from under her shirt and yanked them up into the light, studying them.

"This is it! This is how they're following you!"

"Marcus's old marine tags?" She tried to keep the incredulousness out of her voice as she stepped back from the bar owner. Clair was falling over the deep end apparently. Maybe it wouldn't be long before she started wearing a turban and started selling phony fortunes at country fairs.

"Yes the tag!" the psychic hissed. "I can feel it in the metal. It's been imbibed with dark magic!" Clair was rubbing her thumb over the embossed letting on the metal tag and frowning more and more deeply.

"How the hell could that happen? Marcus never took the damned things off!"

"Not Marcus's tags – Bear's! It's the dog's tag that's been tampered with!"

"What do I do?"

"Get rid of it! I don't know how to destroy it! Drive out of town and throw it in the river or something! Throw it over the goddamned fake Falls for all I care – just get rid of it. Fast!" Clair grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the office, racing through the club and towing her behind her while calling out to her staff that she didn't know when she'd be back.

Jenna wrenched her hand out of the medium's and pushed her way out of the heavy door when Clair lifted the bar across it. They tore across the dark dirt lot and Clair jumped into the passenger seat when Jenna unlocked the doors and let her in. She gunned the engine, engaging the clutch and spinning gravel as she peeled out of the parking lot and onto the road.

"Head north out of town. We'll dump it in the North Fork Reservoir!"

"No," Jenna shook her head. "I've got a better idea."

* * *

They stood on the shores of the Red River, Mother Nature's border between Texas and Oklahoma. The river was wide here, wide and slow moving but it narrowed another mile up river and it sped up a bit too. Jenna held Bear's metal tag in her hand for a moment before throwing it over the bank and into the water. It disappeared from site for a moment before the red and white fishing bobber brought it back up to the surface where it bounced along with the eddying currant. The overhead streetlight from the small boat launch parking lot glinted off the white plastic before it was swallowed up by the darkness and disappeared in the night.

She felt sad that she had to throw away her memento of her dog. It was silly, and she would never admit it, but it was what it was. She was sad, like she threw away part of Bear himself.

"Come on," Clair spoke softly and gave a gentle tug on her elbow. "Let's get back to my place and we'll see if your little ruse worked. They might be able to fly, but they're not faster than a plane. We'll have a few hours before we know for sure. With any luck, by tomorrow night they'll be looking for you in Louisiana."

Jenna allowed her to lead her to her truck, but she was worried and heartsick all the same. She only hoped that the bobber didn't get stuck in reeds around the bend or that some stupid fisherman didn't pick up the bobber and keep the damn tag. Maybe a big catfish would eat it and take it out to sea where those bitches would never find her.

_Not with my luck…_

* * *

Back at Clair's small bungalow, Jenna was freshly showered and fed, sitting in a robe of Clair's with a new necklace around her neck. The psychic had given it to her; it was supposed to alter her aura in hopes that it would hide her from the creatures. It was gaudy as hell with a silver charm and a few dorky crystals, but when Clair told her it worked, she believed her. The psychic held her hands around a second – and in better shape – black cloth with lit colored candles. She was concentrating on the creatures and Clair was shaking her head.

"It's too soon. I don't know if they're following it or not. They're still flying south but that's all I can get. When the sun rises, we'll see if we can't get a feel for where they roost. That should hopefully give us an indication if they're heading away from here."

"Okay," Jenna replied wearily. She pulled her hands out of Clair's and rubbed them. She didn't like sitting idle, but she had to admit that she was exhausted and she needed some sleep. She was no good to anyone if she was sleep deprived and stupid.

A thought hit her as she was about to stand up. "Wait!" She reached out and grabbed Clair's wrist before she could extinguish the candles. "Bobby. Bobby Singer! Can we see where he's at? I might need to track him down to figure out what the hell those bitches are."

"Sure." The black woman sat back down and held out her hands. "Give me your hands."

Jenna put her hands in Clair's and filled her mind with the image of Bobby Singer. As always, the image was one of a dirty trucker's hat, a greasy vest, and a cynical smirk that held no love for idiots.

"Concentrate harder. I'm having trouble picking him up."

"You know him; can't you add some power to your Bobby-detector?"

"I'm only a conduit, I can't add anything. Concentrate harder."

So Jenna concentrated with all her might on her mentor. The way Bobby had laughed as she sat perched in her tree after beaning John Winchester across the face with a rake handle, how he showed her his old books and all the creatures described in them. The smell of the greasy fried pork chops his kitchen always seemed to smell of. How he taught her and Marcus how to build a flame thrower out of a blow torch…

Clair's face was scrunched up in concentration too, but her forehead was creased with an unexpected irritation. "Are you concentrating?" the psychic snapped at her.

"Of course I am. Why?"

"I can't get him. I've never had this before."

"What do you mean you can't get him?"

"I mean there's nothing. Nada. Zilch! Even when I'm looking for someone and they're dead, I can still find their body. But not in this case. There's just… nothing."

More worry and fear lanced through her as her stomach plummeted. "So he's not dead – right?"

"I don't know," Clair whispered and let go of her hands. "I just don't know."

* * *

Bobby Singer tried to open one eye as the other was swollen shut. There wasn't an inch of him that wasn't aching and dog tired. He felt like he'd been tenderized and fed into a meat grinder. His mouth was dry and tasted like ass so he opened and closed his mouth a few times to try to get some spit going. It didn't work.

He wondered why it was so dark, and he wondered why his arms felt like they didn't belong to his body. If they didn't hurt so bad, he'd have thought they'd been blown off.

It was that thought that brought him back to a more cognizant state. He should be blown up. He had held the door against the demons and yelled at Dean to run. He had shot at the bastards, and then he'd pulled the pin of the frag grenade in his pocket. He should be dead, and he was _almost_ certain that he wasn't.

Between the vertigo and the darkness, he wasn't sure if he were vertical or horizontal. He tried to wiggle his toes and was pleased when he felt them move.

_Okay, still got legs…_ He was trying to think positively. Legs were a good thing. _And boots; still got my boots on._

He tried next to move his arms. Instead of them moving or not moving, he heard the chink of metal. That brought him around some more. Why was he hearing metal? He tried to move his arms again and heard the metal sound again. This time he was able to discern it was a chain clinking.

_Why the devil do I hear chains?_ He was still groggy, and his mind was nothing more than a thick fog that he wasn't used to at all.

He tried to rotate his shoulders and was surprised in their lack of movement. He should be able to roll his shoulders, but their mobility was greatly reduced. And still there was that metallic clinking noise.

"Bobby Singer – are you awake?" The jovial sound of the voice shot fear and dread down his spine. A light snapped on and he squinted against its glare. "You are awake! Satan be praised!"

Bobby tried to pry open his one good eye and was rewarded with a blurry image of a man standing against the wall opposite him. He didn't need much to know that the fellow so happy to see him stirring was none other than that demon bastard, Connor.

"Go to hell you demon bastard!" he grunted, not liking the raspy tone of his voice or grade school level insult. It sounded weak to his own ears and he never wanted to give Connor the pleasure of sounding anything other than the determined sonofabitch that was gonna kill 'im. He peeked at himself as best as he could while Connor stood thumping his hand against the wall and laughing his ass off. His hands were bound to the wall by thick chains and manacles. His feet were planted firmly on the ground, but they were weighted with leg irons. It explained his limited mobility and why his arms and shoulders hurt so bad – muscle atrophy from being tied up. He wondered how long he'd been here, trussed up and unconscious.

"Come on, Singer," the demon cajoled him, advancing with a shit eating grin on his face like it was fucking Christmas. "How you doing there, Pal, anyway?"

"I ain't yer Pal you pussy footed toadshit."

_Not much better old man. Get your head back in the game_.

"Don't be so uncivil. I'll have you know that I've been here, nursing you back to health."

"Bet you were real jealous when you gave me a sponge-bath, huh Florence Nightingale?"

"What makes you think I didn't give you a sponge-bath?" Connor taunted him. Bobby felt the blood rush from his head and a cold sweat break out on his forehead as the demon laughed. It wouldn't be beyond Connor to do _**anything**_ and he tried to do a quick mental check of all his parts. "I was determined to find out if the infamous Bobby Singer really did have balls of brass. I'll admit I was a little disappointed to find out they weren't."

"So are you gonna kill me or talk me to death?"

"Neither. The big boss wants you alive."

"Big Boss?"

"Lucifer," Connor smiled radiantly. "Our father has returned to us."

Bobby felt his heart break and he honestly wished for death at that moment. Dean had lost. Lilith had killed him and freed Lucifer from the box. The apocalypse had begun and he was at the mercy of a deranged, demonic lunatic.

"And why does Lucifer want me alive? I'm nothing to him."

"On the contrary my friend. You are very important to him." Connor got very close to him then and looked him in the face with those bat-shit crazy eyes of his. "You see, he wants you to lure your friends here to him."

"My friends?" He didn't know what the hell the demon idjit was yammering about. His friends were dead. Well, Sam's body was still alive, but was a finger puppet to Lilith and there wasn't much that he could do for the boy with his current predicament of being chained to a wall.

"Yes, the Winchesters."

"You really are certifiable, you know that?" Bobby shook his head at him. "You should be committed by your own kind. Dean is dead."

"No he's not," Connor whispered in his ear, maniacal giggling bursting forth. "He's alive and you've all been tricked! It was genius on Lilith's part. Pure genius!"

"Start talking shit-rag," he growled, wishing he could wrap his mitts around the demon's throat and choke the black soul out of him with his bare hands.

"Lilith set your boy up. He wasn't the final seal – she was! He killed her and broke the final seal himself. Genius!" Connor danced a few steps and jumped, clicking his heels together with glee.

Everything slid into place for Bobby then in a moment of absolute clarity. Ruby had tricked them. The bitch had worked against them the whole time. She lied to them both, pushed and pulled them down the road she chose for them, and set them after the demon queen with all the wrong information, pretty much guaranteeing that they'd set the devil free. He felt more than betrayed, he felt violated. He'd let her get close. He'd let her spread her poison to his boys. He'd let her work them over. If she wasn't already dead, he'd…

"But the best part is that Sam is Lucifer's vessel? Can you believe it? Your little Sammy is the true vessel for my Lord and Master. You should be so proud of him!" Connor thumped him on the back and it made his shoulders scream in protest. It was a small pain compared to the ache in his chest of what lay ahead for Sam.

"So what happened that you're using me as bait? Lucifer lost his car keys?"

"Well… those boys are crafty ones, I'll give them that. That Dean is one stubborn asshole if ever there was one."

"Gets it from his daddy," Bobby grunted, smirking on the inside. If Dean was loose, there was at least someone out there to give some resistance.

"Mmmm, yes. Anyhoo, Deanie got away and took Sammy-boy with him with some heavenly assistance…"

Bobby started laughing at that one. The kind of full on, deep belly laugh he hadn't had since they took Golden Girls off the air. "You stupid sonsofbitches…" he gasped out as he tried to get a hold of himself and his loose grip on sanity. "You sorry sacks of ogre shit. They're really out there aren't they?" Connor only glared at him instead of answering his question and it only made the grizzled hunters laugh all the harder. "So tell me…" he guffawed, "who's Lucy riding around in if Dean and Sam got away?"

_Those boys are damn Houdini's_, he thought with pride. If there was a pair out there capable of pulling one off on the devil, it was the Winchester boys.

"Lucifer is currently using a substitute, but he would like his property back," Connor said snippily.

"Yeah, I bet he would. I imagine the boss doesn't like it when he doesn't get his way. Nothin but a spoiled brat," he spat, still laughing.

"Well that's what you're here for."

"You think they'll come here for me? Dean'll think I'm dead, you moron."

"But Lilith knew we got you out before the explosion. I imagine that they'll come for you sooner or later. Until then, Lucifer's only stipulation was to keep you alive."

"Then you better shut yer cake hole, cuz yer boring me to death."

"Funny," the demon smirked and sidled in closer, amusement twinkling in the nut's eyes. "Tell me, Mr. Singer… Have you ever been water boarded before?"

* * *

A/N: Two more days! Squee! This has been one long-ass hiatus. Here's to Sam getting his soul back and keeping his shirt off.


	20. Chapter 20

Disclaimer: Kripke's toys, my sandbox. Thanks for letting me play.

**Chapter 20**

"_You think they'll come here for me? Dean__'ll think I'm dead, you moron."_

"_But Lilith knew we got you out before the explosion. I imagine that they'll come for you sooner or later. Until then, Lucifer's only stipulation was to keep you alive."_

"_Then you better shut yer cake hole, cuz yer boring me to death."_

"_Funny," the demon smirked and sidled in closer, amusement twinkling in the nut's eyes. "Tell me, Mr. Singer… Have you ever been water boarded before?"_

* * *

Sam didn't wake up until late the next day. Dean had barely left the room for much more than a pee break and a quick shower the entire time, making the best of the bottle of whiskey and the pizza that Cas and the other angels had left behind. The Impala was out in front of the motel room window. He'd been pretty glad to see her there, safe and sound and winking at him in the morning light. Somehow, he felt better knowing she was out there waiting for him. One of the angels must have grabbed her and brought her home – he was leaning towards Cas. Even though he and Anna had spent a night shining the seats before she went full-metal-angel, she didn't grasp the connection he had with old girl. Hell, Cas didn't understand either but at least he knew the bond was there.

He had the TV on the whole day, flicking back and forth between CNN, FOX News and anything else with a douchy news anchor in front of a camera in hopes of getting some news about what was happening out there. If Lucifer were free, then bad shit should be all over the news… but so far everything was pretty quiet. Traffic accidents, fires, stock prices rising and falling, and of course the usual diatribe about politics… but nothing apocalyptic. There was the bit on the news about a gas leak in the industrial park in Lexington. Apparently, some dead bodies had been discovered in a chemical cleanser facility and the deaths were being attributed to the explosion. The authorities were being pretty tight lipped about the whole thing and Dean didn't blame them. A gas leak didn't explain all the carnage in that place or the gaping hole in the parking lot that was the gateway to hell's maximum security block. It worried him more that it was all so quiet in the news than if something horrible were happening. If something bad was going on, he'd know where to go to look for the devil and his minions. But this? This? This was nothing! What was going on out there? He'd almost welcome Cas to come back so that he'd have someone to talk to about all this. He'd at least wring some answers out of the dorky angel. Did Lucifer find his secondary vessel yet? Where was Michael? Did Michael know that Dean was now his vessel? How many angels were on Team Human? How many on Team Dark-Side? He paced the room some more to vent his frustration.

It wasn't until he noticed Sam moving slightly under the blanket he'd tossed over him that he was racing across the room and bracing a knee on the side of the bed while he gently shook his shoulder.

"Sam? Sam? You hear me?"

Sam tried to open his eyes but the low light of the room seemed to be too much for him and he squeezed his eyes shut tight. He fished his hand out from under the blanket and clumsily wiped at his eyes. "Dean?" he groaned. "Are we alive or dead?"

He almost wanted to burst into laughter at that. The fact that both of them had been dead and brought back a couple times was almost comical – like death didn't really want them and kept tossing them back like small fish not worth keeping. He was so happy that Sam was coming around that he almost forgot for a moment how bad things really were. "We're alive, Sammy. We're alive."

Sam managed to open his eyes at that and gave him a look that clearly said, '_how the hell did we manage that?_' but instead said, "Good. Death shouldn't hurt this bad."

"How you feeling, Dude?"

"Like someone took a steamroller to me. What happened?" He tried to struggle into a sitting position but he pushed him back down with a hand to the chest. It didn't take much effort; the guy was weak as a kitten and Sam quickly gave up.

"Just lie back would you? Geez, you were almost dead and you're trying to sit up?"

Sam seemed to register some memories and put his hand on his bare chest where the knife wound should have been. He felt the burn scar of a hand print and turned questioning eyes on his brother. "What the…?"

"Cas," he offered as explanation. "He and Anna and another dude were locked up in angel jail but broke out. They got there just in time to get us out before Lucifer showed."

"Cas…" Sam whispered, gingerly touching the handprint.

"Yeah, he didn't abandon us after all. He just got locked up."

"Cas wasn't in on it – it was Zachariah all along."

That threw him for a loop. "How'd you know that, Sammy?"

"I was awake in there the whole time. Lilith liked to keep me awake… What about Ben?"

Dean closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Ben's safe. He's with Missouri and they're in hiding. Don't mention Ben to the angels, I don't want them to know about him."

Sam's face scrunched up in confusion. "Why not? What happened?"

"I'm a vessel too, Sam. I'm Michael's vessel." He felt guilty admitting it to his brother. As if Sam's issues of being Lucifer's finger puppet weren't bad enough, he had to toss in, '_na-na-na-na-naaa, I'm a vessel toooo!_' along with an '_oh, by the way, saving your life is what made me an angel-rubber, so it's all your fault._' pbbllttt.

"…How…? _How?_" If they had been talking about something else, the look on Sam's face woulda been kinda funny. "How can you be a vessel? You couldn't hear Castiel's real voice before."

"It's a long story, and I'll explain everything to you. Just don't mention Ben to anyone. He could be used as a vessel too and I don't want the angels to even know he exists."

"Right. I won't say a word." Sam closed his eyes and rubbed at his forehead. "How did this happen?" he asked while gesturing at the handprint.

"We were losing you and Cas had to pull you back. Since you're Lucifer's vessel and there are rules of some kind that they have to play by, he saved you by making me agree to something."

"I heard about some of these rules from Lilith. What did you agree to?"

He shrugged noncommittally. "That I would serve heaven in the fight against the devil. That was when I turned into Michael's bitch, cuz I hadn't accepted my role before then and couldn't be a vessel until I'd agreed to fight for heaven."

His kid brother erupted at his nonchalance. "That's what you had to do to get Cas to save me? Dean! You should have let me die and destroyed my body!"

He shrugged as if it were no biggie. "That's what Cas wanted to do. I didn't like that plan."

"But now Michael will take you and destroy you and the planet while he fights Lucifer!"

"Not so fast there, Sammy. First, Michael still needs my permission to crawl up my ass and I ain't gonna give it to him. Second, as long as Mikey and Lucy aren't in their true vessels – you and me – they won't reach their full power. So as long as we don't give permission, they can't do as much damage."

"I'm sure they'll be able to do plenty of damage no matter who they're riding. They're archangels for fuck's sakes." Sam closed his eyes and huffed in a way that was so annoyingly familiar – and missed – that he actually felt his throat tighten up a bit. It was like they were talking about some rookie salt-n-burn and not the end of the world. He was lost in his own thoughts of simpler times for a second and missed when Sam started giving him that patented-scrutinizing-Sammy-stare. "You're leaving something out. I know you are. What aren't you telling me?"

"Well, this Nyan dude marked our souls so that we won't be tracked by angels or demons, we can call them for help, and we won't be able to be possessed by fuglies. Too bad we didn't have that before, huh? Those tattoos really let us down."

"Yeah, but they looked cool. Chicks liked them. At least the ones Lilith was banging…"

"Whoa, say that again?"

"Lilith was still harvesting souls for Lucifer. He'll feed on the souls in hell for power. She used me to lure in women and tricked them into giving up their souls."

_Sammy bait_, he mused. _Was she reeling in old women and chicks with an affinity for puppy-eyes?_

"How many times did you have to do that?" Because he _was_ genuinely concerned about his brother being whored out by the demon queen.

Sam looked at the far wall in shame. "At least once a night… usually more."

The guilt had to be eating at the guy. Sam didn't normally do one-night stands and the whole harvesting souls thing sounded bad enough to counteract the every-mans-fantasy of banging several girls a night. So when in doubt; play the dark humor card. "You turned into quite the player there, Sam."

"It wasn't me. Lilith was at the wheel. Like I said, she liked me awake so that I could watch and she could torture me with it." He was still looking at the wall above the kitchenette sink instead of at him. It wasn't as if he was going to blame Sam for being possessed or think less of him for the things he did while possessed. That was crazy – Sam had been a prisoner.

"So the sick bitch had a voyeur fetish?"

"Something like that. I killed so many people…"

This had to stop, like, right now. He was not going to let his brother drown in misery and self-contempt for something he had no control over. "You didn't do that, the bitch did and she's dead now… Right?"

"Yeah, she's dead. Ruby too, good riddance!" he spat.

"Ruby was trying to help us," he interjected.

_She died in my fucking arms, man_.

"Ruby screwed us all over. She was working you like she worked me and look what happened. She got to you too."

"No. No, she saved Ben. She saved me. She was helping us!"

"No she wasn't, Dean. She was Lilith's lackey all along. She did and said what she had to, to get close to you and get you to kill Lilith and open the box."

"But Ben…"

"I don't know why she saved Ben. Maybe it was because she felt that was a good way to get you on her side."

"But she almost died doing it…" He'd seen it. He'd seen the pain and terror on her face when Connor's curse shifted from Ben to her. He'd seen her hair flying in a wind that wasn't there. He'd been trapped in that salt-circle-limbo with her. He could still hear her screaming to the sky, _'I take it! I take it!'_ How could he have been betrayed by her too?

"Doesn't matter. She was on Lilith's payroll." The venom in Sam's voice shouldn't have surprised him, but it did. "Lilith was mad that Ruby lied to her about Ben being dead though. At the end there, during the Sith-Lord mind hold thing, when she found out Ben was still alive, she was pissed. Super pissed."

He didn't know what to think. Ruby had played them all like a pro. It all added up, and yet he didn't want to think that the one he'd let get close under such dire circumstances, had betrayed him so ultimately. That she had screwed him over so badly, and didn't even give him the courtesy of dinner, a kiss or a reach-around. _Wham, bam, thank you Dean._ He felt like such a chump.

At a loss for anything to say as the horrible truth of it all settled on him, he got up from the side of the bed and went to the sink to pour Sam a glass of water. The water smelled faintly of rotten eggs, but it was this or nothing. Technically, it was eggy water or the remnants of the Blue Label, and to be completely selfish, he wanted the whiskey for himself. He tried to reason with his conscience that it was because Sam was in no shape to be drinking whiskey, but he knew better than to talk reason to himself. He felt as if he needed that whiskey more than Sam did at the moment. He still had to tell the guy about Bobby blowing himself to bits. He'd have to share the whiskey then because he knew how low Sam was gonna sink once he got the news that the scrap dealer was gone. He hoped to hold off on that news for a little while longer. Sam needed to recover, and an emotional blow like that one wouldn't help. He hadn't even told Sam the full truth of his deal with Cas yet – that if Sam let Lucifer in, then he was dead in his place. Yeah, that was gonna go over well.

"Where are the angels now? Why aren't they here?" Sam asked as Dean pulled a kitchen chair up to the side of the bed. "What's happening out there?"

"The news is showing squat," he said, holding out the cup of water to his brother. He sat in the chair with a tired groan and thought that tonight would be a good night to get hammered and sleep for a few days. Maybe he could call Cas with his new marked soul thingy and ask him to make another liquor store run. It didn't have to be Blue Label this time – some moonshine filtered through a dirty gym sock would do just fine. Just something with enough alcohol in it to knock him out so he could get a few hours sleep. He hadn't needed booze this bad since he first got outta hell. He pinched his eyes shut and willed away the determined look in Bobby's eyes as he told him to run. What a clusterfuck this whole thing has been. His life sucked epically.

"If the news isn't showing anything – isn't that a good thing? Maybe the good angels beat him back into his cage?"

"I don't think so. I imagine Cas and Anna woulda came back and told us that our services were no longer needed." He offered Sam a goofy grin. "Wouldn't that be the best pink slip a guy could get? Guess what, we don't need to cram an angel up your ass anymore – you're fired!"

"Yeah," Sam closed his eyes and smiled a tired smile. "That would be pretty freakin sweet."

There really wasn't much point of putting one of the heavy news bulletins off any longer, so with a heavy sigh, "Sammy, there was another thing I agreed to for Cas to bring you back that you need to know about."

Sam gave him a suspicious look that clearly said he knew there was something else he had been keeping from him. "What was it, Dean?"

"I… I agreed to vouch for you… kinda… that you wouldn't let Lucifer take you."

"What do you mean, _vouch_ for me?"

He scrubbed his face with is palms. "That if you say yes to Lucifer – then my life is forfeit in your place."

"You agreed to _**WHAT**_?" Sam shot up in the bed and winced painfully at the movement. "Dean! How could you do something like that?"

"What was I supposed to do? Let you die?"

"Yes! At least that way we wouldn't be in this position. What the hell happens when Lucifer captures me and tortures me until I let him in? What happens if he captures someone we know – like Ben or Jo, or Ellen…? Am I just supposed to let him hurt them just so that I can hang onto my angel-virginity?"

"I didn't think about it like that, okay! You were dying, and I couldn't let you go when there was a goddamn angel standing there offering to make it better!"

"So what do we do now?"

"The angels will be back later to fill us in some more on what they want from us."

"What do they want from us?"

"I agreed to fight for Heaven. You, on the other hand, are free to go if you want to. You're not bound to them and can do what you want."

"Do you actually think I'm going to just walk away and leave you to clean up this mess? No way. You're staying – I'm staying."

"They want you for something big, Sammy. Something real big. It might be better if you go into hiding."

"I'm not leaving you here with those douchebags. Geez, how could you think I'd do something like that? Where's Bobby? What's he think of all this?"

And there it was. He couldn't lie to him about their friend's fate now, not when he'd directly asked for him. He tried to steel his features but he knew it didn't work. All he could hope for was that he didn't break down in tears as the emptiness swallowed him whole. "Bobby didn't make it, Sam." He managed to get out. "He told me to run while he held off the demons, and he pulled a grenade…" He felt his throat constrict with emotion as he tried to get the story out. "I ran – I fucking left him there – and I ran."

"He didn't die, Dean." Sam said it with such certainty that he had to wonder if Sammy had hit his head or if Cas had wiped a couple memories clean – like how bad frag-grenades were.

"Look, Sam. I know Bobby's tough as an old boot, but he pulled the fucking pin!"

"He didn't die in the blast! The demons grabbed him and covered him and got him out! Lilith had orders for them to capture him!"

"What do you mean?"

"The demons got him out! They must still have him and we have to get him back!"

"How do you know this?"

"They called Lilith a moment before you got there and told her they had him. I thought that if the angels got us out, then they must have got Bobby too. I didn't know he got left behind!"

"Where did they take him?" he demanded.

"I don't know. Originally they were just taking him to a back room in the warehouse but they must have moved him by now."

"They would have had to. The cops are all over that place because of a _gas leak_."

"So how do we find him? If he's even still alive…" Sam trailed off and swallowed his words, not wanting to give them a voice.

"He's alive. He has to be. Besides, he's worth more as bait than a corpse."

"You're right. They've got him locked up somewhere and we have to find out where." Sam tossed the blankets back and slid his legs over the side of the bed. Dean wanted to make him lie back down but knew it was a futile effort and instead helped him to stand. Sam wobbled a bit and leaned heavily on his shoulder, but he was standing. Dean would have to go out to the car and get some spare clothes out of the trunk for Sam to wear.

"How do we call the angels?" he asked with his hand over the handprint on his chest. He was sweating with the effort of standing and his face looked like someone had sucker punched him in the jewels.

He wanted to argue with his brother, but there was an urgency in him too. If Bobby was out there somewhere, they had to get him back, plain and simple. No way was he leaving one of the best friends he ever had to the mercies of Lucifer and his demons. "I don't know how it works." He looked up towards the ceiling. "Umm… _Cas_?"

"What is it, Dean?" The voice came from behind him and why the hell did he always poof in behind them? It would be nice to not hear that voice whispered over his shoulder. But Sam jerked at the voice and winced in pain.

"Damn it, Cas! Start popping in in plain sight from now on, okay?"

The angel ignored him. "Sam. You are in pain."

Sam was digging the palm of his hand against the handprint and grimacing while he did it as if he had bad heartburn. "No shit, Sherlock."

"Hold still." Cas walked towards them, fingers outstretched and touched them to Sam's forehead. Relief washed over his face and he stood tall, rolling his wide shoulders and stretching his arms as movement came back to him.

"Thanks, Castiel."

"I am sorry you were in discomfort. I didn't know how much power it would take to bring you back and I didn't want to overdo it."

"Don't worry about it," Sam waved him off. "Listen, Bobby's still alive and we need to get him back."

"I am afraid that is not possible."

Dean blew up. "What do you mean that isn't possible!"

"I mean that we cannot rescue him. It is too risky."

"Of course it's risky, but we're not leaving him there for Lucifer to chew on!"

"That is precisely why we must not chance it. Lucifer will use him to lure you in. Or have you forgotten that Lucifer needs your brother's body to destroy the world?"

"Geez, that did slip my mind… How could I have forgotten such a thing? Sam, remind me to get a day planner will ya?"

Sam frowned at the angel. "Look, Cas, we're going after Bobby with or without your help, but it would be nice to have some angelic muscle along to help us out."

"There is too much at stake to risk it. You are the only one who has a chance to stop this whole thing." Cas was staring directly at Sam and there was no misinterpreting who he was speaking directly to.

Utter disbelief was the only way to describe the look on his brother's face. "How? How am I supposed to stop the apocalypse?"

"Nyan believes that you are the key to killing Lucifer. With your vessel bloodlines, and the demon bloodlines from Azazel, along with my own blood now in your system – Nyan believes that you have the potential to be trained to use your powers and stop the devil from destroying the earth."

Sam's face paled at the bald statement from Cas. He looked to him for confirmation and all he could do was nod sadly at his brother. The angels had said as much last night, but he wished he'd had the chance to tell Sam about it before Cas slugged him across the face with it. Sam, for his part, tried his best to stand up straight with the weight of the world literally resting on his shoulders.

Sam drew himself to his full height and asked, "What is it you want me to do?"

"You will be trained to use your powers properly. The demon blood you ingested was a bridge – a shortcut – to learning how to control your abilities. You will be taught to tap your energy so that you can reach the full extent of your powers without such barbaric acts to fuel it."

"Who will train me? You?"

"I am not qualified for such a task. Nyan is going to attempt to approach Raphael once he is confident that Raphael was not in on Zachariah's coup. It is not believed that the archangels were aware of it as The Three have control of heaven and had no need to gain more power over the garrisons."

"So I'm going to be taught how to fight by a ninja turtle?"

The angel gave a perplexed look to each brother in turn and if things weren't so in the crapper, Dean coulda laughed his ass off. "I do not understand. What do turtles have to do with it?"

"Never mind, Cas," Dean said flippantly. "It doesn't matter. We'll save Bobby ourselves, or die trying."

Sam crossed his arms over his chest, partially hiding the burn mark, and gave the angel a smug smile. "We're not going in there alone, Dean. Cas and the others are going to help us." The surety in his voice had the hunter and the angel look at him in surprise.

"I already said that we cannot."

"I heard you… Now hear what I got to say." The smile on his kid brother's face was kinda feral and it made a shiver run up his spine at the sight of it. It reminded him a bit of when Lilith was behind the wheel. "You want me to take on the devil? Well you're going to have to help us get our friend back first. I'm not doing anything for you guys unless you help us get Bobby back. Those are my conditions. Take it or leave it."

That was why the smile reminded him of Lilith – it was the smile of a person who knew they held all the cards.

_Way to stick it to 'em, Sammy_.

* * *

A/N: Great episode last night, so glad that the boys are back but Sera totally stole my song. I feel like I just got mugged. And I didn't realize how much I missed puppy-eyes Sam until we got him back. Awww… he cares again…


	21. Chapter 21

Disclaimer: Kripke's toys, my sandbox. Thanks for letting me play.

**Chapter 21**

"_We're not going in there alone, Dean. Cas and the others are going to help us." The surety in his voice had the hunter and the angel look at him in surprise._

"_I already said that we cannot."_

"_I heard you… Now hear what I got to say." The smile on his kid brother's face was kinda feral and it made a shiver run up his spine at the sight of it. It reminded him a bit of when Lilith was behind the wheel. "You want me to take on the devil? Well you're going to have to help us get our friend back first. I'm not doing anything for you guys unless you help us get Bobby back. Those are my conditions. Take it or leave it."_

_That was why the smile reminded him of Lilith – it was the smile of a person who knew they held all the cards._

_Way to stick it to 'em, Sammy._

* * *

"Sam," the angel spoke so that every syllable was perfectly clear. "It is foolish in the extreme to attempt to rescue Bobby. He will surely be guarded and Lucifer himself will most likely be there waiting for you. It is a suicide mission and I cannot allow you to do such a thing. You are too important to the cause."

"Well Bobby is important to us," Sam shot back with an air of defiance.

He tried to reign in his _'lets get the bastards'_ mentality and think this thing out right. As much as he wanted to see the un-ruffle-able angel's face turn scarlet with anger at being told what to do by the halo squad's new upstart quarterback… there was too much on the line – both sides of the line. Theoretically, he agreed with everything his kid brother was saying. Bobby didn't deserve to be left behind to suffer at the hands of Lucifer and the demons. But he also couldn't let Sam go ahead with the angel's plans. No matter the reassurances from Anna that she would watch out for him during his training, it didn't change the fact that Sam would be pitted against the freaking devil in the end. Dean grabbed his brother by the elbow and tugged him towards the corner. "Sammy, can I have a word with you? Sit tight, Cas," he tossed over his shoulder as he pulled Sam away from the angel.

_(- - Your Decision, by Alice in Chains - -)_

Once they were in the opposite corner he hissed in Sam's ear. "Sam, I want Bobby back as bad as you do, but you can't do what they're asking of you. It'll kill you, or Lucifer will. This is only a theory they have and I don't want you betting your life on an angel's best guess."

"What other choice do we have? We gotta get Bobby out, and we sure as hell can't do it on our own."

"I'll go. I'll get him out."

"You can't do it on your own and you know it. The place will be crawling with demons and I'm pretty sure Lucifer will rip you to shreds once he knows who and what you are."

"Look – we didn't risk everything back at that warehouse just so that we could shove an apple in your mouth and serve you up to Satan."

"I have to do it."

"No you don't. Do you understand what they want from you? They'll train you to use your abilities and then they're gonna square you off against the devil, hide behind a brick wall, plug their ears and wait for the explosion."

"And if I don't do it – what then? What part of '_Apocalypse'_ don't you understand? There's no where to go but to stand and fight."

"There's nothing to do but get yourself killed!" Dean snarled.

"What other choices are there with Lucifer running free? How long before the world is turned to ash and us with it, all because we didn't have the balls to fight back?"

"It's dangerous."

"Of course it's fucking dangerous!" Sam exploded and all pretence of a private conversation was blown outta the water. "Do you think I don't realize that? But what if the angels are right and I'm the only one that stands a chance of stopping this?"

"You'll die."

"I'll die, or everyone will die if I don't. I can't exactly say no to this, Dean."

"Please reconsider this, Sammy. Please." He could feel tears burning behind his eyes and he hated it.

"Dean, there is too much blood on my hands already. If I can stop this – if I can save the world… how can I turn my back on humanity?"

And _there_ was the driving force behind this kamikaze mission – the guilt hiding behind those pained eyes finally shining through to see the light of day. He saw the desperation in those eyes as clearly as he saw his gargantuan brother standing before him. "Those murders weren't your fault! It was Lilith!"

"Doesn't matter. The blood will never come off my hands and I can't close my eyes without seeing the faces of all the people I murdered the last three weeks."

Dean wanted to shake him, to tell him he was crazy for thinking that any of that was his fault – only… Sam had told him the same thing about his time in hell and his stint as Alistair's pupil. Sam had tried to reason with him that Hell was designed to break souls, and that his getting off the rack to seek a few minutes respite after thirty years of torture hadn't made him a monster; just human. His brother had tried so hard to make him see things his way, but all he could see were the souls he carved to pieces. Every one of them. Hell had twisted and mutilated his soul until there was a giant, gaping chasm in the middle of it that was filled with the echoing screams of his victims. He would awake at night and hear the moans, feel the blood thick and sticky on his hands… smell the undiluted fear of the damned as he struggled to reason with himself of where he was. He wasn't in hell, and it wasn't a trick of Alistair's to make him think that he'd escaped the pit and would wake up back on the rack at any moment. That wasn't going to happen because he was free – the angel in the trench coat across the room had seen to it. And while the reasons for his rescue were mired in lies; that wasn't Castiel's fault. He believed that he doing the right thing when he rescued him from him from hell and not doing Zachariah's bitch work by plugging in the apocalypse for him.

He didn't realize his hands were shaking and his jaw was clenched tight until Sam clasped a hand on his shoulder and nodded in understanding. He had spent a lifetime sculpting an unreadable mask – and Sam had spent that same lifetime learning to read it anyway.

"Out of anyone in the world," Sam said slowly, "you know _exactly_ what it means to be used to cause that level of damage and harm. You know exactly what it does to your head and you can't reason with yourself about it or try to make excuses so that you can sleep at night. I looked in those peoples eyes while they died. They didn't see the monster that was in control – they saw **me**."

He could only shake his head in defeat at his younger brother. "Sam… It's too much."

"Maybe, but it's a shot at redemption – a shot at atonement. No one forced the demon blood down my throat. I did that on my own. Half of why we're in this mess is because of me."

He tried to laugh it off and make a joke because if he didn't, he might just spontaneously combust with all the guilt and turmoil festering up a toxic soup in his gut. "Awww, don't go taking all the credit there, Sammy. Zachariah and Lilith were pulling more strings than a Jim Henson show."

Sam didn't even crack a grin at the joke. He only bit his lower lip and shook his shaggy head minutely. "I'm doing this, Dean. Tell me you're behind me. I need to know that you're with me on this."

And he'd never been able to deny Sam anything in his whole life so he wasn't going to start now. He and Sam now understood each other on a level two people should never have to be on – and his heart broke because he never wanted his brother to comprehend that deep inner revulsion he felt for himself. The self loathing that went along with knowing that you weren't man enough to keep fighting and stop the horrors that were going on around you. And there was still that part of him that hell hadn't been able to break… the part that was the older brother whose only job that ever mattered a damn was to protect what was most dear to him. Sam would not fight this battle without him. And if Sammy was going to go mano-a-mano with Lucifer, then Dean would be right there beside him with a '_kiss my ass, Lucy_' and his trademark give-em-hell attitude.

Sam was watching his face, reading every thought that passed behind his eyes as if he were an open book. So Sammy knew when the scales tipped in his favor. And honestly, if he dug a little deeper, which he totally didn't want to do, he knew the answer from the second Cas first told him last night of their intricate roles in this biblical chess game.

"Okay, Sammy. I'm in."

* * *

"I do not like this." Nyan's authoritative voice cut across the room like a whip.

Sam crossed his arms over his chest. "I don't care."

"You could be the key that ends this and saves the world – and you want to squander your life on one human?"

"Well that's the difference between you angels and us humans, isn't it. Maybe that's why God liked us better and left heaven to you dickwads."

There was a snap of feathers and the light in the room flickered as Nyan stood tall in the modest motel room. "Do not attempt to speak down to me, human." It looked like both Winchesters had a talent for pissing off the Keeper of the Vaults.

"Then don't attempt to tell me who's worth saving and who isn't!"

"Okay, okay, enough posturing okay?" Dean tried to put himself between the angel and his brother. "Put the rulers away and pull your pants back up."

"Nyan," Anna stepped in, "if this is the price for Sam Winchester to offer his services, then this is the price. You will not cow him into submission and he will not give up on rescuing his friend. Bobby Singer is important to them, and our kind cannot grasp that kind of connection so please stop trying to preach reasoning and plausibility to them. They are ruled by emotions that you don't understand and you will not sway them."

"Did you know that level of care when you lived as a human, Young Anna?" It seemed to the hunter as if the crotchety old dude had a bit of an affinity for the red-head. So it didn't bother Dean at all that Anna was doing whatever she had to, to diffuse the situation and get them what they wanted.

"I did. I had two parents that loved me and I loved them. I no longer feel that connection to the people that raised me while human, but I do remember that I felt it once. This form is unable to grasp something so complex as love, and our grace is a hindrance and an obstruction that the humans cannot understand. I feared taking back my grace because of all that I would be giving up. So I choose to hold onto the memories even if I don't feel the emotions any longer because I remember that the emotions were beautiful."

Nyan pointed a wrinkled finger at Dean's chest. "You coupled with this one." Cas's head jerked around at that little bit of information. Apparently he didn't know about that little tryst. Uriel must not have passed that steamy tidbit on before Anna shoved an angel stick through his throat because The Smiter had known the two of them had spent a night shining the seats.

"While I was human. Yes," Anna answered solemnly. Dean saw Cas's blue eyes flick from the hunter to the red-head and back again. He didn't like the narrowed eye look that Cas was giving them and the only thing he could liken it to was some dude ready to put a beat down on some schmuck to defend his sister's honor. Considering Anna outranked him, it was kinda funny. Kinda. But he still had an angry angel staring him down and looking like he wanted to beat the ever-loving snot outta him for touching his baby sister.

Nyan carried on as if he didn't sense the silent accusations that Cas was hurling at the pair of them. "And did you care for him?"

"At the time – yes."

Dean tried not to think of himself as a steak in a butcher shop window with the bland and emotionless way the two angels were talking to each other about him. It didn't matter. All that mattered was getting the angels to help get Bobby back and it wasn't as if he, Anna and her angel wings were ever going to drive off into the sunset together.

"But no longer." Nyan steepled his fingers in front of his lips and perused the two of them as if they were an interesting church bake sale sweets tray.

"Not in the same way. This form cannot fathom that sort of bond, but I will stand behind the Winchesters in whatever they decide."

"If you were still human and the persons being held by Lucifer were your human parents, would you have risked all to rescue them?"

"Yes. That is what being human is. Risking everything for the ones that you love. Bobby Singer is like a father to the Winchesters, and nothing you say or do will stop them from going to him. The best thing would be for us to go with them to ensure they get out."

"This is what you would commit to?"

"Yes, Nyan, I would."

The old angel closed his eyes in silent deliberation. Dean realized he was holding his breath and hastily let it out. They needed the angels' help or Bobby was doomed. "So be it then. We will get this Singer back."

_Thank fuck_.

"Do you promise to fight for Heaven?" Nyan demanded of Sam. The angels must need the verbal contract for the legalities of the whole thing. Imagine the lawyers fees if one of their deals went epically south on them.

"I will fight for Earth and the humans on it. So long as that's what Heaven is fighting for, then we're on the same team."

_Go get 'em Sammy. No loopholes for these bastards_. He only wished he'd been more particular in his agreement, but he'd been too worried over saving Sam's life to be particular. And Sam had been the one with the promising law school shtick before everything went sideways on him.

Nyan actually rolled his eyes and flapped a hand in irritation and it was all Dean could do to not smirk. "Yes, yes. So be it."

Sam tipped his head towards the ancient being in a show of respect and gratitude. "Thank you, Nyan." As long as they were getting the help they needed, Dean didn't mind kissing a little holy kiester and nodded a thank you too.

"First we will need reinforcement, and we will need to find out where Lucifer is keeping Bobby." Cas was always the party pooper.

Sam rolled his eyes. "A little ray of sunshine, aren't you, Castiel?"

"I am being practical. This mission is fool-hardy at best."

"Well, we are a couple fools, right, Sammy?" Dean nudged his bother in the ribs and gave him a shit eating grin cuz they were gonna get their Bobby back.

"Damn straight."

* * *

Dean was feeling distinctly uneasy in the small motel room filled with angels. The room was practically vibrating with power and he felt a little uncomfortable as one angel was staring rather intensely at him. Her name was Aurelia, or at least, he thought it was a girl. He couldn't really be sure. Her vessel was either an ugly woman, or an ugly man, and in desperate need of a sandwich either way. Pale too – creepy kind of pale. So the albino hermaphrodite was staring at him like a lion stared down a tasty gazelle and it was all he could do to stand his ground and keep his mouth shut under the scrutiny of the renowned angel. Aurelia was a warrior – and a damned feared one at that. Anna said they were lucky to have her on their side.

"So what's going on in Heaven?" Sam asked the congregation in front of them.

An angel by the name of Jediah answered him. "The known traitors have fled and are either in hiding or rallying with Lucifer. The only problem is that there are likely many who have switched allegiances and we have no way to tell who is on our side, and who plots against us from within."

"So there are moles in Heaven?" Dean groused. "Great."

Aurelia stood there, stock still other than the silver angel shiv she was gently swinging at her side. "We will hunt down the traitors like rats to their holes, and we will destroy them for defying the word of God." Dean could've sworn that there was a crackle of electricity in the air as she swung the angel blade up into her hand and clenched a fist around the end of it. Everything about this chick screamed cold, cold, cold.

Another angel named Valdoro clasped a hand on her shoulder. "Yes, Sister. We will show the traitors the punishment suitable for defying Our Father. We will make them pay for what they have done."

As inspirational as it all was, Dean wanted his friend back. "Do any of you know how to track down Lucifer or where he's hiding our friend?"

"It is a safe bet that Lucifer has acquired a secondary vessel by now. Wherever he his, he is lying low and not using his powers to avoid detection. It will be difficult to find him whilst he is hiding and he could have your friend anywhere in the world, protected and hidden from view."

Sam let out a huff of annoyance. "Great. It's needle in a haystack time."

"How did you track down your brother while Lilith was possessing him?" Nyan inquired. "A summoning ceremony? A locator spell?"

Dean frowned at the old angel. "I called her on his cell phone."

His white eyebrows shot up. "That was it? You called her and she told you where she was?"

"Well… Yeah."

"Then do so again."

"What? Call the devil?" Dean couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"If he has your friend, then he must have this Singer's phone with him. Call and see what happens."

"And what the hell am I supposed to say? Hi Lucifer, it's just me, you know, the guy who sprung you and stole your vessel right out from under your nose. Call me." Dean shook his head in exasperation. "That's crazy." Movement out of the corner of his eye made him half turn towards Sam who was standing silent beside him.

Sam had his phone to his ear and a finger to his lips. "Shhh. It's ringing."

* * *

Missouri was tired. They had been aimlessly driving all day and her back and legs were killing her. A life on the road was not meant for someone as advanced in age as she was. She glanced out the corner of her eye at the young man beside her. Ben had been mostly silent since Dean and Bobby left nearly a week ago. The poor little lamb had taken the news of Ruby being killed very badly. Ruby was a different sort of demon and she wasn't sure how she felt about the little brunette's death. On the one hand, there was one less demon roaming the earth – on the other hand, this particular demon had been helping to stop the apocalypse from happening. She sighed as she signaled to switch lanes so that she could take the off-ramp. A sign a little ways back had promised a motel at this exit, and a bed was calling to her aching bones.

She glanced at Ben again.

_So like his father. It's a wonder he didn't sense it the first time he met him. _

She and the boy had gotten to know each other very well over the last few days. She prodded him into conversation continually despite his silence because she feared that he would bury himself in his own misery if left to his own devices. She had managed to coax his life's story out of him, and her gut clenched as he painfully told her of the Changeling that had invaded his suburb. Dean and Sam had rescued him and the other children and killed the monster before they left Cicero behind. She had done the silent math and realized that this happened shortly before Dean was killed and dragged off to hell and wondered if that was the reason behind Dean subconsciously not recognizing his own son. She hadn't spoken to the Winchesters in years, but hunters gossiped like old women and the news got around that Dean Winchester got himself dragged off to hell, only to be pulled back out a few months after. That was when all the talk of angels started cropping up. She wished she had more of the story because Ben seemed to have issues with the whole thing and would always sink back into his silent refuge. She just wanted to put an arm around the boy and comfort him. It had to be excruciating on the child to witness his mother's murder and to finally find out who his father was only to lose him immediately. And she thought Dean and Sam had father problems…

While she was relieved as all get out that Dean had gotten Sam back, she had to wonder at his insistence that she and the boy go on the run. He sounded rushed and scared and the part at the end where he told her not to tell where she was if anyone called pretending to be him had her on edge. Were there villains out there capable of impersonating someone so well that she would be fooled into disclosing where she and the boy were hiding? Would it be the demons or the angels that would come looking for them? It didn't seem to matter which side it was as both of them were up to no good according to what Ruby and Dean had told her before. She could only hope that whatever was going on, she and Ben would be able to stay one step ahead of the game.

She had woken Ben up from a fitful sleep, telling him that they had to go and they had to pack in a hurry. Ben didn't have anything with him anyway, but he helped her dump her herbs and charms and her more important things into a suitcase and stash it in the trunk of her old Buick. She retrieved her old Magnum from the bottom drawer of her dresser, tucking the heavy gun into her oversized purse. Rufus had given her that gun, and she hadn't had need to use it in her life other than once a month at the shooting range. It fired true every time. Rufus always did know his way around a gun, and told her she'd eventually get used to the size and the kickback of the old girl. She'd almost lost her front teeth the first time she fired it, but Rufus was right, as much as she hated to admit it to herself. She liked the way that gun felt in her hands. It was a weapon that meant business.

She and Ben then drove all over town to different bank machines, drawing out as much money from her accounts as the machines would allow her to. She did massive cash withdrawals from her credit cards too, even though the interest charges on those would be through the roof, it didn't really matter as she didn't think that bad credit scores were going to do anyone much good if they were dead. It was going to be cash only from now on, and she was currently sitting on a big wad of it. She had purposely hit all the bank machines in a north-west direction out of town, and once she withdrew her last dollar, she immediately turned south-east and drove all night. There was a pocket in the suitcase filled with old jewelry that belonged to her mother and grandmother. Even though the idea of pawning her family heirlooms broke her heart, she would do it when they needed the money. It wasn't as if she had a daughter to leave them to anyway – and you couldn't eat a pearl necklace. A silver bracelet would not fuel her car. As precious to her as they were, they were only things and human life was worth more than old memories.

She glanced at the young man staring out the passenger window as she turned left off the ramp and headed towards the gas station and the motel beyond it. This young man was worth more than her whole life of memories. She would keep him safe as long as she was able.

* * *

There was no feeling in the world to describe the utter terror Sam was feeling inside as he held the phone to his ear. He had hardly had a chance to come to grips with anything, and already they were all being thrown into the fire. Lucifer was free and Bobby was his captive. He closed his eyes so that he didn't have to see his brother's green eyes boring into his, but then all he could see was a bloody and mangled Bobby instead.

The ringing in his ear felt like a funeral dirge.

The connection clicked open on the fourth ring and he thought he was being shunted to voicemail, when a silky, confident voice filled his ear and he instantly knew who was on the other end. He didn't know how he knew, he just knew that he was on the phone with the devil himself. And he thought they had phone bills from hell before…

"_Hello? Dean is that you?_" He could hear the scrape of the mouthpiece against flesh as the phone was pulled away from the monster's mouth. "_The screen says it's you._"

His entire body tuned to ice water and it was all he could do to not drop the phone and run for the door. "This is Sam." His voice sounded dead and empty in his own ears and he turned away from Dean's scared green eyes staring into his.

"_Sam! How good of you to call. I've been wanting to talk to you._" Lucifer made it seem like they were old friends long overdue for a beer night catch-up.

"Is Bobby there with you?"

"_Your friend? Yes, he's here. Well… not here beside me but close by. Someone is with him though. He says he's had the pleasure of meeting you. Connor._"

Sam closed his eyes in dread and felt cold sweat break out on his forehead. If Bobby was with that fuck Connor… "We want him back."

"_By we, do you mean you and your brother Dean?_"

"Yes."

"_Please tell Dean that I'm very eager to meet the two of you._"

"We'd like to meet you too," he breathed. "Why don't you tell me where you are."

"_Are you interested in making a trade?_"

"What are you asking for in return?"

"_Just a meeting. That's all. I just want to meet you and your brother and make my case to you both. I'm sure you're both sick of being lied to by everyone that you've ever met._"

"You don't know the half of it."

Lucifer laughed on the other end of the line and the sound of it made his skin crawl. "_They told me you two were funny._"

"Where are you keeping him?"

"_We didn't go far. We're in Cincinnati, not far from the airport._"

"We'll be there soon."

"_I look forward to it. Come alone._"

* * *

A:N/ Okay, I was totally impressed with Jared's Good!Sammy, Bad!Sammy switching last night. And did any of you see the new show cover art on IMDB? That snake curling up his arm is smoking hot!


	22. Chapter 22

Disclaimer: Kripke's toys, my sandbox. Thanks for letting me play.

**Chapter 22**

_Lucifer laughed on the other end of the line and the sound of it made his skin crawl. "They told me you two were funny."_

"_Where are you keeping him?"_

"_We didn't go far. We're in Cincinnati, not far from the airport."_

"_We'll be there soon."_

"_I look forward to it. Come alone."_

* * *

It all felt way too familiar to Dean. The whole, lets-sit-outside-the-abandoned-building-and-wait-to-ambush-a-baddie thing was getting stale. The major difference this time was he had half a dozen angels with him who were ready to kick some ass and take some names. Aurelia was staring at the derelict school with an unbreakable focus much like a retriever watches a tennis ball in his master's hand. Freakin' eerie.

Sam was beside him, Cas, Anna and Nyan flanking them like body guards while Aurelia and the others looked like they were ready to stop the apocalypse singlehandedly or throw themselves on a grenade for them. The whole thing wasn't much different really and he tried not to think about the possible loss of life of the angels. It was hard to think of them as he would if they were human soldiers. Human soldiers had hopes and dreams and fears… Not these guys. They were like marble statues; calm, cool and resolute. What he wouldn't give right about now to have some of that rock-steady resolve because his innards had currently turned to a mush-like state consistent with oatmeal, and he hated oatmeal.

There was no pretending to themselves that Lucifer didn't know they were out here and that they came with a holy entourage. The guy had to expect that they weren't just going to waltz in like they were going to some job interview or something. They could only hope that Bobby was still alive and all of this wasn't going to be in vain.

Cas prodded him in the shoulder and pointed to a window on the second floor. "There."

He glanced up and saw a shadow pass by the window. Lackeys on the lookout. They had expected that as well. "Demon?" he asked.

"That one is. That one is an angel." Cas pointed towards a ground floor door where a shadow passed over the wired glass.

That sucked. Dean knew that angels had flipped sides, but it had to be hard on Cas and the others to have to fight their own people. Well, it had to be hard on all of them except Aurelia. The broad was watching the shadow at the door as if nothing would give her greater pleasure than for that poor bastard on the other side to be the first one on her hit list.

This whole thing was a desperate shot in the dark and he had to try and make things right with his buddy the angel while he could. "Look, Cas…" he tried to get out. Chick-flick moments were never his thing, but he didn't seem to be in any short supply of them the last couple years. Cas swiveled his head towards him, blue eyes expressionless in the weak moonlight. "Cas… if this doesn't go down well… if something happens… I'm sorry I doubted you."

The angel looked at him and blinked slowly. His expression never changed and he replied with as much emotion as someone choosing a new laundry detergent. "It is too late for apologies, Dean. We stand on the brink of our own destruction on your demands. My brethren and I are here to fight to the death if need be to rescue your friend. Do not falter on us now." Cas turned away to watch the school again and Dean honestly felt like he'd just been slapped.

"Geez, Cas, way to get it all off your chest."

"I am not here to offer you comfort when there is none to be had."

"Then why are you still here? You don't have to fight. There's nothing stopping you from just poofing away."

Cas turned back to him and narrowed his eyes. "I fight because I must. My kind are taught that the whole is greater than the parts. Stopping Lucifer is worth more than an individual life such as mine. And these were the terms dictated to us by your brother – which you agreed to whether you said the words or not. Do not believe that you are not complicit in these matters if one of us dies in serving you."

Dean didn't know what to say to that and whispered, "I'm sorry," which sounded like so little in the face of what they were up against.

"I believe you. But it does not change anything."

Nyan laid a hand on Cas's arm. "That is enough, Castiel." Cas gave the wrinkled angel a short nod of acknowledgement and went back to staring at the building. Dean felt his gut roil and revolt with the guilt trip Cas sent him on and rested a hand on the rock he was crouched behind. It was a little harder to think of the angels as an indestructible and all powerful unit after that monumental dressing-down.

He glanced back up when he felt a warm, firm squeeze to his bicep. Anna was looking at him and trying to give him a reassuring smile. "It will be fine, Dean. We will get Bobby Singer out."

"Anna…"

The angel shook her head. "Don't. This is not the time for apologies or good-byes. This is battle, and it's about to begin. Are you ready?"

He reached and pulled the demon knife out of his jacket pocket. "Got my Ginsu right here."

"Stick to the demons – do not attempt to fight an angel; you will lose. Stay close to Cas, Jediah and Aurelia. Sam will be with me and Nyan and Valdoro."

There were a lot of things he wanted to say to Anna at that moment. Topping that list was a big ass thank you for sticking up for them on everything the last two days. But as she said, now was not the time for any of that and he could only squeeze her hand on his arm and return the reassuring smile she gave him.

She slipped off and sank into the shadows further up the line of waiting warriors. He glanced down at the knife in his hand reflecting the pale moonlight back at him. He had wanted Sam to take it but he refused, saying that the demons weren't going to kill him so big brother needed it more. Sam was armed with a sawed-off full of salt rounds and a .45 filled with consecrated iron rounds. They wouldn't kill a demon, but they would hurt like a sonofabitch. '_Besides_,' he had joked. '_If worse comes to worse, I'll drink some bastard dry and take them all out_.' He didn't appreciate Sam kidding around like that, especially since he hadn't been jonesing for a demon hit since Cas brought him back to life, but there was nothing to be done about it. It was what it was and he was going to have to learn to accept that. Sam would always have that ability at his fingertips if he chose to use his powers, and there had been no word yet if Raphael was going to train him properly or not. So like it or not, Sam might choose to fall off the wagon again if things went sideways and they needed to add some muscle.

"We go in in three…" Nyan spoke softly, touching his hands to the shoulders of Cas and Jediah. "Two…" Cas reached over and placed a palm on his shoulder, and Dean reflexively reached out and clamped a hand on Sam's forearm. They shared a grim nod with each other and they both mouthed '_be careful_' as Valdoro touched his hand to Sam's nearest shoulder. "…One."

Everything went black for a fraction of a second, and Dean opened his eyes and found himself in the middle of the decrepit gymnasium with a multitude of screaming going on around him. He bit back the vertigo because the battle was already full blown and fugly number one was rushing in on him. He reared the knife back, ready to slice the bastard across the throat when Jediah whirled in front of him swinging his silver angel-sticker and nearly took the bastard's head off with one swipe. Jediah smiled back at him with a grim determination and threw himself at his next opponent.

Dean turned on the spot to see Cas holding a palm to the forehead of a demon as white light shot out of the broad's eyes and mouth. A demon came at him and Dean only just managed to get the knife into the guy's gut before there were more coming at him. He pulled the knife out, shoving the gagging guy down and tried not to think of Ruby dying in his arms with a similar gut wound. He couldn't afford to think of Ruby at a time like this. She was dead and she had betrayed them. Move on.

He fought like a fiend. Slashing and punching and kicking at anyone that came near him. There was no way to know how many demons were in the school, and no way to know how many angels were here fighting against them now. The ones on his side were laying waste to everything in their path, and Dean had to keep glancing up to make sure Sam was okay. He could hear the steady firing of the shotgun, but Dean didn't like how far his brother was getting from him. The demons and rogue angels seemed to be driving a wedge between the small band of rebels, separating them. It made sense from a tactical standpoint to divide and conquer. It only made him fight harder to keep it from happening.

He witnessed firsthand why Aurelia was such a feared warrior amongst her own kind. The chick was a whirling dervish, mowing down everything in her path whether they were demon minion or angel turncoat. She was coated in blood and screaming a battle cry that in itself was pretty frightening. All she needed was a horse, a decapitated head and half her face painted blue to complete the picture. A large swath was being cut through the enemy hoard courtesy of the albino and they seemed to be avoiding her now so that she was chasing after her prey instead of being overrun by them.

_Glad she's on our side…_

* * *

The battle was insane. No matter how much damage they did, the demons just kept coming. It was like they entered an ant hill and they just kept streaming out of the woodwork at them. They were advancing on their group pretty heavily and Sam could tell it was because they were trying to get at him. The angels were fighting like mad though, but they were still being pushed back and pushed farther away from the rest of their team. He kept an eye on Dean as best as he could but there wasn't much he could do for him from where he was at. The idea of drinking demon blood and sending a few of these sonsofbitches on permanent vacation was sounding better and better all the time.

Nyan and Valdoro were by his side, smiting their way through the demon army. There didn't seem to be any angels coming at them, just the hoard of black-eyes. Anna was just off to the side, fiercely swinging her angel blade and cutting the minions down. It didn't seem to matter how hard they fought though, they just kept getting pushed back.

They were nearing one of the double doors that led out of the gymnasium, when Valdoro grabbed him by the shoulder and threw him through the swinging doors. "Come on!" he bellowed, shoving him into the hallway beyond. Nyan looked torn as he watched the doors swing shut and looked back at the rest still fighting, but he turned on his heel and stormed through the door after them looking thunderous. He clearly wasn't about to let the key out of his sight.

"What about Anna?" Sam yelled at Valdoro.

"She'll hold them off," was the angel's hasty reply.

"What are you doing?" Nyan demanded. "We cannot leave the battlefield!"

Valdoro lashed out like a striking snake and swiped his blade across Nyan's throat. A look of surprise filled the old man's eyes before a blinding light spilled forth and Sam had to cover his face to avoid getting his retinas burned out of their sockets. He felt the searing light fade and heard the dull thump of Nyan collapsing to the ground. Valdoro looked at him with utter repulsion and then turned on the hunter staring aghast at the angel's dead host.

"You turned on us!" he breathed.

Valdoro pointed his blade menacingly at his throat. "I was never on your side to start with. Move."

* * *

Dean looked up in time to see Sam go through the swinging doors with two of the angels. Anna was fighting for all she was worth and about to be overrun and the others just left her there.

"Sam!" he shouted over the roar of the fight.

"Castiel!" Aurelia barked. "Something's wrong!" Just then there was a flash of light from under the doorway the others disappeared through and he only just turned his head in time.

Cas nodded at Jediah and yelled, "GO!"

Cas grabbed his arm and Dean felt himself transported from the gym to an empty hallway. They weren't far from the fight because he could still hear the shouting demons. Cas knocked him to the floor and covered him and as he was about to fight back, he saw a bright light flash under the door. He covered his eyes instantly, knowing it was angel light and the damage it would do to him. Dust rained down from the old ceiling tiles as the light faded and he pulled his face from the crook of his arm.

"What the hell was that?" he demanded.

The angel rolled off of him and gained his feet. "Jediah took out the room."

"You mean he went supernova?"

Castiel reached down and grabbed his wrist, yanking him to his feet. "Yes."

"Why didn't you guys do that before?"

"Because now he's burnt out his vessel and cannot return until he gets another one. Our numbers were not great enough to risk such a maneuver."

"What happened just now? Where's Sam?"

"Aurelia and Anna are going after him."

"The hell with that, that's my brother!" He made to run through the door and get back to the gym so that he could track down Sam, but Cas blocked his way and fisted a hand in the front of his shirt. If looks could kill, he'd be dead right now. He'd never seen the angel so furious.

"We came here for Bobby Singer," Cas growled. "And we're going to find him." They winked out and the vertigo took him once again as he opened his eyes in an abandoned classroom of some sort. He staggered where he stood and braced an arm against the blackboard for support because he thought he was going to ralph all over the place. Angel transportation sucked ass.

"What the fuck, Cas! We've got to get back and help the others!"

"They will manage without us, or perish. We have another mission."

"How can you just leave them back there?"

"This was our mission to start with. These were the conditions your brother set. Help you get Bobby back – and that's what we're going to do."

"But the others could die back there!"

"The demons will not kill Sam, which is all that matters to you. If Lucifer gets to him, Sam will either say yes and doom the planet or say no and wish he were dead. He knew the risks in coming here, and so did you. You would not listen to reason before and this is the consequence of that decision. This way." Castiel strode off towards the door to the classroom, overcoat fluttering in the wake of the breeze he was making.

He swallowed hard, forcing the ball of guilt down as he stared at the back of the avenging angel and started to follow him.

* * *

"In here!" Valdoro hissed, still holding the angel blade to his throat. There was nothing for Sam to do but obey. The weapons he had on him were no match for an angel. The traitor shoved him into an abandoned classroom and shut the door behind him. Since he was so focused on the silver blade being held to his throat, it took a moment to realize that he wasn't in an abandoned room at all. In fact, there was someone sitting at an old desk in the corner and be broke out in a cold sweat, knowing immediately who the dark haired man was.

"Time to meet your maker," Valdoro growled as the figure in the corner rose to his feet and started to cross the room. "Lucifer." The angel bowed reverently at the waist at the approaching figure and shoved Sam to his knees. "Kneel."

His heart was fluttering like a hummingbird was lodged in his chest and his mouth ran dry with mind numbing panic as the figure stopped in front of him.

"Hello, Sam Winchester. It's nice to finally meet you."

* * *

Anna burst through the swinging doors right on Aurelia's heels. Jediah had blown out his vessel to clear the room of the demons while Aurelia went after the sole remaining rogue angel. Theodosius didn't stand a chance against the avenging angel and dropped where he stood as his head rolled across the carcass littered floor. Aurelia never broke her stride as she sprinted across the gym and through the doors.

Both women stopped in their tracks as Nyan's vessel strewn across the hallway floor came into view. The angry red gash across his throat silently accusing them while lifeless eyes bored holes in their hearts.

"That traitor will pay!" Aurelia hissed through clenched teeth and tightened her grip on her sword. "This way!" She started running down the hall, hell-bent and determined to bring swift justice to the traitor that had lain in their midst. Anna gave her mentor a final solemn glance and took off after the warrior. They had to find Sam before it was too late.

* * *

"Your pals are here for you, Mr. Singer."

Bobby opened his one good eye and glared at the demon. He didn't want to get his hopes up that he was about to be rescued because that would be absolute insanity for the boys to be here. Lucifer was here – the bastard had been in this room not two hours ago trying to get him to talk about Sam and Dean. The burning pain of the broken fingers on his left hand was a parting gift from the devil for not cooperating. Of course, Lucifer hadn't done the deed himself – he'd let Connor have the honor. Seemed like Lucifer didn't like to get his pretty hands dirty.

Connor brought his mouth close to his ear and whispered, "Aren't you going to call out to them? Help me," he mocked, "help me."

The mechanic only glared at him in response. He was not about to give the demon the satisfaction of calling out to help that wasn't there. Because the boys couldn't be here. They just couldn't. There was no way they were that stupid.

"Call out to them." When he didn't make a sound, Connor punched him in the goods so fierce that he bit his tongue and tasted blood. The chains kept him from doubling over and falling to the floor. "Call out to them!"

"No," he grunted, spitting out the wad of blood into the bastard's face.

Connor dragged a hand over his cheek, smearing the blood into the stubble. He only smiled that lunatic's smile and picked up a pointy length of rebar. He hefted it in his hands a few time, getting a feel for the weight of it and grinning at him. He held the point to his Adam's apple, making it impossible for the grizzled hunter to swallow – not that he had any moisture in his mouth besides blood anyway.

"Call out to them. Now."

"Fuck you."

Connor looked like a soulless shark, you know, the image they always show on shark week where the great white is swimming towards the camera and all his teeth are showing, and it looks like he's smiling only he's about to rip your damn head off for being in his ocean. That was the look on the demon's face as he brought the rebar back from his throat and slammed the butt of it into his gut. He managed to put a gag on the bellow he was about to let out. Hurt like a sonofabitch, but he had to keep quiet. He wasn't playing Connor's games. Either it was the demon getting off on his calling for help, or those idjits really were here and Connor was trying to bait his trap. Either way, he wasn't playing.

"You are a stubborn one. I'll give you that."

"You know I'm gonna kill you, right?" He spit out another wad of blood onto the floor. He hurt so bad, he knew he was gonna be pissing blood for the next week. It was a good thing those chains were holding him up.

"Stubborn and delusional. That's why I like you Mr. Singer. You and I are so much alike." Connor held the point to his good eye, wanting to see him flinch. He was honestly getting too tired to flinch. "I know how to make you scream."

"Keep your fetishes to yourself. I don't swing that way."

"You hunters all think you're just so funny."

Quick as a viper, Connor pulled the heavy bar back and slammed it point first into his abdomen. The metal pierced through him, ripping its way through organs and intestines and Connor cackled with delight in his ear as he wrenched on the bar, sending white hot pain lancing through him and he cried out with the pure agony of it.

"Told you I could make you scream," the demon panted lustfully in his ear as he cranked on the bar again. "I think they heard you."

* * *

Cas was nearly running down the hallway, trench coat fluttering behind him as he checked the windows to the rooms. They had come across a half dozen more demon sentries, but no more angels, and they had taken out the fuglies quickly. Cas was a handy guy to have in a fight. Between Ruby's knife, the angel blade and the holy fist of smite-your-ass, they were working their way down a second corridor looking for Bobby.

Cas paused mid-stride, turning his head and listening carefully. "I think I hear something."

* * *

"You do not need to be afraid of me, Sam." The devil's vessel was a tall, good looking man with dark hair. You could tell by looking at him that the vessel was a man of confidence, and the smile the devil was giving him was the smile of a man who was used to getting what he wanted. He looked familiar, and Sam couldn't place it – he blamed it on the mind-numbing fear.

Sam swallowed hard and fought to keep his heart from launching out of his chest. Now was not the time to cower in fear, even if it was all he could think of because he was helpless here. He was currently kneeling at Satan's feet with Valdoro's blade pressing between his shoulder blades. "You want to take my body and destroy the planet and everyone on it, and you think I shouldn't be afraid?"

Lucifer smiled benevolently down at him, "I believe that the plans for my return have been greatly over exaggerated."

"So you don't want to fry the planet and all the humans? What a gross misunderstanding."

Satan chuckled with amusement. "You are funny."

"What did you promise that guy to get him to say yes?" he asked while nodding at the vessel. Valdoro prodded him with the blade point for his insolence, but Sam ignored him.

"Richard here?" Lucifer's arms went out to the sides as he looked over his new body. "Richard was not hard to convince. He – like most humans – is a being ruled by greed, power and lust. He is the epitome of what is wrong with your race."

"So he thought riding shotgun to the devil was a sure way to get some ass."

"You are not so far off base. He sees me as a means to get what he wants most. He does not realize that he is a secondary vessel – a last resort – and that he is incapable of containing me for long."

"Is he awake in there? Are you making him watch all this? Does he hear what you're saying about him?"

"He is aware of what is going on. He's too busy feeling sorry for himself to care what happens to those around him. I thought this was a good lesson for him in the sins of pride."

"That's kinda ironic that you're lecturing others on the sins of pride." Valdoro poked him sharply and he winced, but continued on because there was a vein in Lucifer's forehead that started throbbing and Sam could only hope to provoke the devil into killing him in a fit of rage. The alternative was a life of torture for saying no. "Isn't that why you got locked away in the first place? Daddy had Michael send you to your room because of your little temper tantrums?" He swallowed back the tears that wanted to form. He could only hope that Dean, Bobby and the others got out. Dean needed to be free to stop this monster. If anyone was stubborn enough to find a way, it was his brother.

The vein throbbed harder and Lucifer cricked his neck and flexed his fingers in an effort to reign in his temper. "You are either very brave, or very foolish. Which is it?"

"Neither. I'm just horribly logical."

Lucifer cocked an eyebrow at him while he crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for him to continue. When he didn't, Lucifer said, "You were made for me specifically, Sam. Why would you try to throw your life away? I know what you're trying to do and it won't work. I will never harm you."

"The answer is no, Lucifer. I will never let you in."

"I'm not the monster you think I am."

"You want to destroy the human race, how are you not a monster?" This was a hard conversation to have from your knees.

"Your race is flawed. Most of you are little better than mindless animals. Do you not see the destruction you've done to God's greatest creation? He gave you an unparalleled gift, and your kind rape her to the brink of destruction. I only want to balance the scales."

"By genocide. Nice."

"If a human finds a nest of mice in their house, they eradicate them so that they don't spread sickness and filth. How is what I'm doing any different?"

"Just on a much grander scale."

"You see this only in black and white, not the shades of grey it's painted with."

"I see a spoiled little boy making a mess of the house while Daddy's out. Do you think he won't notice when he comes home?"

"He lost interest in your kind. Why else would he leave you alone and defenseless? Look at what **you've** done while he's been gone."

"Why does everyone think he's gone? Who's to say that God isn't out there somewhere, watching what's happening?"

"Then why doesn't he intervene? Why does he let wars wage? Why does he let earthquakes and floods and disease kill his precious humans by the thousands?"

For some reason, he thought of his dad. He thought of all the head butting they had done right up until the day he died. And he thought of his time at Stanford when he'd abandoned his family for a chance to lead a normal life away from hunting. John hadn't agreed with him leaving, but he hadn't stopped him either. Threatened him? – yes. Stopped him? – no. He'd left and lived his dream for a short time, and later he learned from Dean that John had always looked in on him when he'd been in the area. John had watched out for him, but never interfered, letting him live his own life on his own terms. John had let him make his own decision no matter how much it hurt him.

"Maybe because it's called life. He gave us the free will, and these are the pitfalls of our choices. Why do you all think that God should swoop in and save the day every time someone falls down and scrapes a knee?"

"I think the First and Second World Wars were a little greater than a scraped knee."

"Yes, but those were caused by other madmen – monsters like you."

"You are so quick to throw that term out there, Sam. So quick to throw stones. I know what you've done. You've lied, cheated, stole, killed… You've done things that made your own brother look at you in disgust."

"I'm not trying to doom an entire race."

"Vampires aren't a race? Shapeshifters, Ghouls, Goblins, Wendigos? …Demons?" Lucifer smiled at him as that part struck home and he felt what little blood was left in his face drain away. "You've tried your whole life to eradicate them because you've deemed them evil. You and I aren't so different, Sam. The only difference is I see the shades of grey, while you're only just beginning to see them."

He swallowed hard. "I only ever killed things that were hurting people."

"So Mussolini didn't hurt anyone? Hitler, Hussein, Bin Laden… I could go on. These guys didn't do anything to your race that warranted you wishing to go after them too? Being a bit of a hypocrite aren't you?"

He remembered seeing for the first time the footage of the Twin Towers falling. He remembered the shock and the numbness as he and Dean sat side by side in front of the TV. Then when it came out who was responsible, Dean had been hell-bent to join the marines, saying that they needed people like them to go over there. He had silently agreed with his brother. Honestly believing that a man like John Winchester could've tracked the bastard down and made him pay for what he'd done. "I know what you're trying to do," he whispered, "and it won't work. The answer is still no."

"I will never hurt you, Sam. I will never lie to you. You will say yes, and when you do, it will be by your own free will. But you will say yes."

"You're nothing but a bully and a coward. You use intimidation to get what you want. The answer will always be no. Use the sellout you're riding now. I hope he comes to realize what he's done."

"He's only worried about himself – as most of your kind are. Trust me, Sam. Humans are only hairless apes. When it comes down to it, they will kill their neighbors and best friends if it means another day of their own survival."

"Yet there are others that will risk everything to stop you."

"They will never stop me."

"Maybe not, but they will fight. They will stand up to you."

"Like the mice stand up to the exterminator?"

"It doesn't matter… There will always be mice."

"I have time."

He was about to make a quick reply when the door to the room burst open and he could've wept with grief. Anna and Aurelia charged into the room, swords drawn, and there was no way they were going to get back out alive.

* * *

A/N: This was going to be one _really _long chapter, but I wasn't happy with the wording of the last half so I'll break it here and get the next part up in the next couple days once I'm satisfied with it. You guys are awesome.


	23. Chapter 23

Disclaimer: Kripke's toys, my sandbox. Thanks for letting me play.

**Chapter 23**

"_They will never stop me."_

"_Maybe not, but they will fight. They will stand up to you."_

"_Like the mice stand up to the exterminator?"_

"_It doesn't matter… There will always be mice."_

"_I have time."_

_He was about to make a quick reply when the door to the room burst open and he could've wept with grief. Anna and Aurelia charged into the room, swords drawn, and there was no way they were going to get back out alive._

* * *

Cas kicked in the door with all the style of a severely pissed off Bruce Willis. The heavy door slammed back and splintered, revealing a chained up Bobby with his head hanging, something sticking out of him and that bastard Connor grinning from ear to ear.

"Well, well, hey there boys!" the demon beamed, giving the rod sticking out of Bobby's gut a jiggle which brought out a low groan from the scrap dealer. "Hope you brought my knife? I kinda want it back."

"You get the fuck away from him," Dean thundered, ready to push Cas out of the way and kill this pus-sack himself. Bobby looked like he'd been through a meat grinder and it was the painful groan at the sound of his voice that was the only indication that the scrap dealer was even still alive.

"Stand back, Demon," Cas intoned, taking a step forward and brandishing his silver angel blade in front of him. "Stand back or face eradication."

"Nice toy you got there, Featherbrain." Connor reached a hand over his shoulder and pulled out a similar weapon from a sheath on his back. "I got one too." The demon gave the sword an artful swing on a dexterous wrist and pointed it out towards the angel. "A friend of mine loaned me his. Said to have some fun with it, and pal – you look like fun"

"I will not tell you again…" Cas threatened. "Leave."

Dean could only stand there and watch the two titans square off. Connor took a step away from Bobby, and it was all he could do to not rush in there to his side. Bobby's chest was barely moving as he dangled there, hanging by his wrists, and there was blood _everywhere_.

Connor flashed out and reappeared just behind Cas. The angel was fast though, whirling around and just missing the demon's throat with the point of the blade. Dean wanted to rush in to help the angel, but seeing the blinding flashes of silver as the two went head to head with each other made him realize that he would only get himself killed or get Cas hurt. It was like watching some killer choreography in a period movie with the way they were meeting every blow from the other. Connor obviously knew how to fight with a sword, and he remembered that Ruby and Connor had lived in the 1300's, so Connor would have plenty of experience fighting with a blade.

Cas ducked a swing from the demon, and Connor danced back as Cas tried to run him through. The air was full of grunts and curses and the clanging of silver on silver. A low moan from Bobby made Dean's head whip around and he raced to his friend's side, barely managing to dodge the combatants.

He tapped the side of his grizzly cheek to rouse him. "It's okay Bobby. We're getting you out."

"Damn Idjit," Bobby groaned breathlessly. "Trap… Lucifer."

He slid a hand around Bobby's middle, trying to take off some of the strain on the guy's wrists. Those wrists were supporting a hefty amount of weight. The mechanic let out a hiss of pain as the bar jostled.

"Fuck, Bobby, I'm sorry." He scanned the torture table in front of them and saw a ring of keys mixed in with the jumble of bloodied persuasive tools. Cas and Connor were still trying to hack the shit out of each other, and it didn't look as if either side was making any headway. They were evenly matched and it made the blood in his veins run cold at the thought of the demon getting in a lucky shot on his angel buddy.

He snatched the keys off the table and started trying them in the holes on the manacles. He was trying to keep his hands from shaking because he really needed to keep it together right now but seeing Bobby bleeding out and dying in front of him wasn't helping. Blood was pooling at their feet and how was it possible that Bobby was still alive when all of his blood was on the floor? How did he have any left inside him? There was a fast and steady drip of blood coming off the end of the metal bar in his abdomen and the thought that he didn't want to have someone else die in his arms this week made him grip the keys a little tighter. Bobby was not going to be another casualty of this war. Not on his watch.

"Run," Bobby wheezed.

"Not this time. Not again." He rapidly flipped through the keys, all of them looking similar and none of them turning the lock.

"What do you think you're doing!" Dean ducked just in time to see Connor's blade whiz above his head and spark as it struck the concrete block wall. It just missed severing Bobby's arm by an inch. He struck out with the knife, landing a good slice to the demon's thigh. Connor bellowed in pain and winked out, coming back behind Cas. The angel was ready for him that time and booted a black wingtip to the demon's chest, sending him flying into the masonry wall at his back. He hit with a sick thud and Cas was on him like a fat kid on cake. The angel got a good swing in, ripping open Connor's arm from mid-forearm to shoulder. The demon screamed with pain and Cas wrenched the blade out of the lunatic's flopping grip. Standing there with two blades, Cas spun them around and went to sink both into the downed demon's chest when the fucker poofed out.

"Coward!" Cas bellowed to the empty walls, looking like a pacing caged lion that had his antelope TV dinner ripped away from him. He didn't like the shredded look the familiar trench coat was now sporting and the hunter tried not to dwell on how much more dangerous the demon was than any of them had given him credit for. Connor was a perilous enemy to have on their tail, as if they didn't have enough of those to begin with. Not only was he dangerous though… the demon was a complete and utter sociopath. Swell.

"Let 'im go, Cas," Dean shouted. "Come help me." He had tried all the keys, and none of them worked. It was the sort of sick thing Connor would do – have the keys in sight, and if Bobby had managed by some miracle to get his hands on them, none of them would've worked anyway. Bastard.

"The keys don't work. Help me get him down."

Cas reached up and wrapped a hand around each manacle. The metal broke and fell away like spun sugar and Dean caught Bobby as he sagged with a pained mewling noise that made the younger hunter feel sick.

"Bobby Singer," Cas spoke slowly and with such authority that the old man didn't have any choice but to dig into his reserves and look up from his perch of being draped around Dean's shoulders. "I'm going to remove the metal bar and heal you. It will hurt, but I have to remove the bar first. Do you understand?"

"Get on with it," Bobby grunted, and the sound of it made Dean want to start crying. It was the voice of dogged resignation that Dean was used to hearing from the senior hunter and had feared would never hear again. Cas was going to heal him and Bobby wasn't about to die in his arms.

_Halle-fucking-lujah_.

"On three," Cas stated, placing a hand on the end of the protruding bar. "One…" Dean braced himself under Bobby's dead weight. "Two…" Cas yanked the bar before the count of three and they both would have fallen to the floor if Cas hadn't slammed a glowing palm to Bobby's forehead and the old man froze up like he was in the middle of a seizure. The whole thing couldn't have lasted more than three or four seconds, but it was enough to make Dean appreciate the might of Heaven in a whole new way. If Cas wasn't pulling his kid brother back from death, yanking him outta hell, or saving old men from demented demons, he'd have nothing to think highly of in the guy.

_He also slices and dices… Shut up brain_.

Bobby sagged against him with a grunt and Cas shook his cuff back down over his wrist. The angel picked up both silver blades and stuck them into loops on the inside of his trench coat.

"Bobby! Bobby! You okay?" Dean shook the man's collar bone with his free hand as the other was still around his middle holding him up.

"I'm fine you idjit," he grunted, opening an eye and trying to stand on his own. "Get yer hands offa me."

The relief coursed through him at the gruffness of it all and he felt his throat clench up. They had gotten Bobby back and he could only hope that Anna and Aurelia had gotten Sam back.

Bobby tried to stand, and after staggering a moment managed to find his feet. He stood before Castiel as tall as he was able to and looked him in the eye. "Thank you," he said. Cas nodded and Bobby reared back his fist and slugged him full across the jaw. The angel's face snapped to the side and Bobby shook his hand as the pain spread through it. "Now don't you ever turn yer back on those boys again."

"He was in jail, Bobby," Dean said to come to the angel's defense.

"He abandoned you first, and look at all that happened. Or don't you remember him walking away and leaving you to deal with a strung out Sam on yer own?"

"Bobby – "

"He's right Dean," Cas said while he rubbed his jaw. It likely didn't hurt, but the effect was there to appease Bobby from hurting his hands by trying to hit him again. "I abandoned you when you needed me. I was incarcerated only when I decided to come back and warn you of the disappearances happening in Heaven."

He didn't need all this right now. "Look, can we save all this heart to heart bullshit for a time when we're not in the devil's playground?"

"I have to get you out of here." Cas walked towards them with his fingers outstretched but both men batted the hands away.

"The hell with that! What about Sam?"

"The mission was to get Bobby Singer out. Those…"

"I swear if you say '_those were the risks_' one more time I'll let Bobby punch you again."

The mechanic was rubbing his knuckles cuz punching angels hurt. "The kid's right. If Sam is still in here, we gotta get him out. That is goddamn Lucifer aiming for 'im."

"You forget that I cannot track Sam any longer."

_Fuck!_

"Then find Aurelia and Anna. They'll be after him," he said.

The angel shook his head in resignation. "This is farcical." He reached out and touched both hunters, and the vertigo took him again.

* * *

Valdoro raised his blade to attack the incoming angels, but Aurelia was faster – whirling into the room in a flash of silver and flying pale blonde hair. She didn't unarm him, but she managed to beat him back a step giving Anna the room to get to him and put herself between the hunter and the devil. The red-head held her blade out shoulder height, and he sprang to his feet so that he wouldn't die on his knees. Somehow, that seemed important. Lucifer just stood there, unbothered by the whole thing, glancing at Anna and her sword as if it were a plastic toy and incapable of harming him. He had to wonder if one of those fancy shivs even could off an archangel because no one had ever tried.

Aurelia and Valdoro were chest to chest with their crossed blades pinned between them. With a mighty heave, she shoved Valdoro back and sprang back to stand next to Anna, forming a holy wall between the hunter and the archangel. Aurelia, too, held her blade out towards Lucifer, ready to attack at any flinch or eyebrow twitch. Sam felt the guilt eat at him that these two were about to die in here with him. They were good fighters, and Dean was gonna need all the good fighters he could get his hands on.

Lucifer smiled and clapped sardonically. "Well done, Sisters. Now, please, put your weapons away."

"Not a chance," Anna hissed, tightening her grip on her blade.

"Please, we are family. There is no need for more violence."

"Listen to him," Valdoro growled as he circled back to his master's side with his sword pointed at the albino. "It does not have to be this way."

Aurelia glared at him with washed out eyes and it was a wonder that Valdoro didn't burst into flame at the scathing look. "Hold your tongue, Traitor, lest I cut if from your mouth."

"You do have fire," Lucifer mused. "Are you certain that you do not wish to join me? You can put that skill towards fighting for your freedom from God's rule."

"I fight **for** God's rule!" Aurelia hissed. "And I will never fight alongside you, Serpent!"

"You are good," he conceded, "but you cannot beat me."

"No. I can't." The warrior tightened her grip on her weapon and stood firm. "But I can hold you off long enough for Anna to get Sam Winchester out of here."

"Aurelia! No!" Sam bellowed. He couldn't allow her to sacrifice herself for him.

"Such a good soldier. Father would be so proud of you." Just the way the words dripped off the devil's mouth made it sound all the more sinister.

"You will not have him. Not while I breathe."

Lucifer opened his mouth to say something when movement at the back of the room caught everyone's eyes but Aurelia's. Sam whipped his head around and saw Dean, Cas and Bobby standing at the back of the room.

Just when he thought this whole thing couldn't get any worse…

* * *

They landed in the classroom where Lucifer and the others were. There was a lopsided standoff between his side and the devil's – _and where the hell was Nyan?_ – and this was _soooo_ not good. The man who couldn't be anyone but Lucifer didn't seem too bothered by the fact that there were two angels holding swords on him. But Sammy was still standing safe and sound, so he was able to swallow back the nausea that washed over him. Bobby wasn't so lucky. He staggered on the landing and Dean caught him around the waist. It was too soon after his massive healing to have been angel-poofed.

The forlorn look on his brother's face as their eyes met nearly killed him. He knew every look that kid had and it was obvious that Sam didn't want them in here cuz it was about to get real ugly – like, Texas-Chainsaw-Massacre-ugly. So while Bobby took a second to get his sea legs back, he tossed out a casual, "Hey Sammy. Hope you don't mind us crashing the party." Because he simply could not give into the blood chilling fear that was swamping him. If he did, that would be the end of it all. Lucifer would steamroll over them and there would be no one to protect the planet from destruction. If he gave in to the panic, Ben and Missouri would be as good as dead and the thought of that made his spine stiffen a little more.

"You should've gone out to get more beer," Sam answered in a near whisper. Dean chose to ignore how wet his brother's eyes looked. This was gonna be epically bad.

"So this must be Dean." Lucifer rubbed his hands together eagerly. "I've heard some stories about you. About how you showed real promise down on the racks." Dean stood a little taller at that. He wasn't about to let the devil think that he was gonna tuck tail because he brought up painful memories. Lucy turned towards the newly healed scrap dealer. "And Robert Singer. How's your hand?"

Bobby shoved himself away from his side so that he could stand defiant on his own. He lifted the hand that had been broken not six minutes ago and gave the devil the finger. "Just fine, asshole."

_Bobby, you're awesome_.

He knew it took massive stones to be able to do something like that when you knew the guy was just as scared as the rest of them at the moment. Dean was expecting the kaboom and the blood and guts shower any second now. All that would be left would be Bobby's boots and some steam coming up from bloody leg stumps.

"Hahahaa," Lucifer laughed. "You know, for humans, you three are at least interesting. What if I promised you that I would let you all live, hmmm? You could have the Earth to yourselves when this is all over."

"Sounds like a sausage-fest. I ain't interested," Dean countered, taking a step closer to the last stand. He was not going to die standing at the back of the class like a little miscreant caught throwing spitballs. No. If this was going down like this, he wanted a front row seat. He wanted to go down swinging next to his brother and his angel allies because Lucifer didn't have the right to forge on unopposed – not on their planet.

Cas advanced towards the other angels, pulling both angel shivs from the loops on the inside of his trench coat. Valdoro eyed the geeky angel warily as he approached, shifting the balance of his own blade and crouching slightly, readying for the fight.

Lucifer held up both arms in a placating manner. "Stop. Stop. Brothers, sisters, we do not have to fight among ourselves."

"We will not join you, Lucifer." Cas spoke evenly. "We will never join you."

"You fight against me so that you can continue to live under God's tyranny?"

"It beats dying under yours," Anna replied solemnly.

"Do you all realize that I can wipe out this entire room with a snap of my fingers? And you stand ready to fight and die regardless? For what? The hairless apes who aren't worth saving?"

Cas narrowed his eyes at the devil. "We fight to protect what God created."

"They are vermin!" Lucifer hissed.

"They are my friends." Cas lifted out both swords, readying to take Valdoro's head clean off his shoulders.

Dean felt lifted by that statement, as odd as that sounded considering they were all about to die. But Cas had made it quite clear tonight that he held him responsible for a lot of the bad shit happening, but he still stood here next to him, ready to fight for their cause because they were friends and real friends stuck by you no matter what. He had never counted on having so many friends by his side when he needed them most.

"Get them out of here, Anna," Aurelia spoke calmly. "We will hold them off." The way the albino was glaring at the archangel, one would have thought she was capable of killing him on her own, instead of him using her bleeding stump of a neck as a paintbrush later.

Lucifer turned dark eyes from the angels before him to the humans coming to stand at their sides. They were not leaving Cas and Aurelia to die here for them; plain and simple. They were not going to run from the fight, even though it was guaranteed that they would lose. He didn't think it was an empty boast from Satan that he could wipe out the whole room with a thought and he tried to steady his hammering heart. It wouldn't be the first time he'd died, but it would likely be the last. He only wished that his death could have made a difference – that it could have saved people.

Lucifer smiled at them all, holding up his hands in mock surrender and taking a step back. "I think there has been enough violence for one day. You may go."

_Whoa, what? Totally wasn't expecting that._

"We can go?" Sam asked him, forehead creased in confusion.

"Yes, you can go. I will not stop you."

"I don't believe you."

"I told you, Sam, that I would never lie to you and that I would never harm you. You'll find I keep my promises. I also told you that I would trade you Robert Singer in exchange for meeting you and your brother. I've said what I wanted to say to you, and it is now up to you to think on my offer. So please, go now. We will not stop you."

"All of us can just go?" Dean questioned, not believing this jerk for one moment. "Including the angels?"

Lucifer turned dark eyes on him and smirked. "I can read your soul, Dean Winchester. You are a brave one – there is no doubt about that. Michael has a valuable asset in you. I look forward to the day when you and I meet on the battlefield for real – as we were destined to be. You, me, Michael and Sam."

Dean swallowed hard but squared his shoulders. "If I ever meet you on the battlefield, I'll kill you." He didn't know how he would ever do such a thing, but he meant it with ever fiber of his being.

Lucifer didn't seem bothered by the statement. In fact, he seemed to like it. "You'll try. It's a pity that you won't win – I like you."

_Great, the devil is in my fanclub…_

"I'm leaving now. I am truthful that you may all go free. Sam, I am not the monster you believe me to be. Think on my offer." And right in front of their eyes, Lucifer vanished with a flutter of feathers and a cool breeze brushing their faces. Valdoro took one look at Aurelia's mutinous gaze swinging his way, looking shocked that the archangel just gave them all a free pass and left him holding the bag, and he vanished too. It took about three or four seconds before Dean was able to let out the breath he was holding and force himself to suck back another mouthful of sweet, sweet air.

They had made it.

* * *

A/N: This was it guys, hope you enjoyed the ride. There is a kind of epilogue thingy to come later in the week, I'll try to have it up before the Meta episode on Friday (Yay! I've been looking forward to this one!) but if not, it should be up by the end of the weekend. You guys have been great and don't forget to keep an eye out for the next installment of the Apocalypse Horizon series. One shirtless Winchester for you all!


	24. Chapter 24

Disclaimer: Kripke's toys, my sandbox. Thanks for letting me play.

**Chapter 24**

The sun was cresting the horizon and it was honestly the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. All the shades of red and orange and pink and gold… and it was goddamn beautiful. He picked up the beer off the trunk of the Impala, drinking deeply because he thought he'd never have the pleasure of drinking beer again and he wasn't going to let a drop go unappreciated.

When the angels had transported them out of the run down school in Cincinnati and brought them to this lake in the middle of nowhere Tennessee, he fell to his knees and got sick. Angel poofing several times in one night was not something he ever wanted to do again in his life. When he managed to pull his head out of the bushes, he looked up to see Aurelia standing with her hands on the Impala's hood. The he-she had gone back to get his car and brought it for them. Baby never looked so good.

"Valdoro knew where the car was," she explained. "I had to get it out of there before he could put a tracker on it. It's clean – I checked."

And while everyone was standing around being grateful they were still alive, he was struggling to his feet and looking at the assembled faces of people he never thought he'd see this side of the grass again. Bobby was looking at his hands in wonder, Anna and Cas were standing with their eyes closed and basking in the light of the early sun, and Aurelia was suddenly an ivory ice-goddess because she pulled a cooler into view from out of no where and offered it to him. Clear bottles of beer with tiny dots of condensation like diamonds winked up at him and he could have full-on kissed the ugly woman. He pulled out a beer and drank deep from it, passing out other bottles to Bobby and Sam. His brother wasn't looking good, but there were a lot of reasons why that could be. They did just escape death by devil after all.

"Can someone please explain to me," he managed to choke out, "how in the hell we managed to get out of that?"

"Lucifer knew he was outmatched with all of us standing up to him," Anna smiled. "He ran rather than fought." Dean hadn't seen that level of naïveté in the red-head since she was human and freshly busted out of the mental hospital.

Sam snorted and shook his shaggy head, pulling deeply on the bottle in his hand. "No. That's not it. He let us go."

"He had no reason to just let us go if he was the one who was all powerful back there. He was scared."

"He let us go, Anna. You guys don't scare him and he wasn't about to hurt me and Dean. That's all it was. He let us go."

Cas cocked his head to the side and asked, "I can understand why he would not want to harm you, but why would he let your brother go? Wouldn't he want Dean dead? He could easily order one of his demons to do it for him as he is forbidden from killing an open vessel."

Sam shook his head sadly and took another drink to steady himself. "He wants Dean alive so that Michael can have him."

"That does not make sense. Michael would be at his most powerful in Dean's body."

"You heard him back there. He's looking forward to meeting Dean in battle with Michael. He wants revenge on Michael for locking him up in the first place and he wants to return the favor. He wants Michael to rot in the cage just like he did. He wants his brother in his true host so that he can beat him fairly and savor it. He's spent millennia planning his revenge and he's not about to cut corners now. Plus he's got all those souls in hell to chow down on to boost his power. He's confident that he'll beat Michael and he wants to make is as painful as possible."

"You speak as if you know his mind."

"It's not hard to understand. He's pissed and he wants revenge on the people who he thinks are responsible. It's more of a human trait than I'd like to point out to him though." Sam dragged a hand through this hair and scrubbed his face. "How the hell am I supposed to go up against that guy when a room full of angels don't scare him?"

"You have the potential to be more powerful than we do," Cas said evenly. "…That is what Nyan believed."

"What happened to Nyan?" Dean asked.

"Valdoro," Sam answered simply. "Valdoro murdered him in cold blood."

"The traitor will pay," the warrior angel seethed. "I will see to it." Anna put a hand on her shoulder in a comforting manner which might have worked if they were both human. Anna seemed to forget at that moment that she wasn't anymore and withdrew her hand after receiving a blank look from the hermaphrodite.

Sam looked at Bobby standing silent in the background. "Why did he look familiar, Bobby? Where'd I see that guy before?"

"The devil's new ride?" the mechanic questioned. "Richard Ehler. He was in the news a bit a few years back. A low level politician down Texas that got caught misappropriating funds, bribing officials and the like. Honestly, he wasn't doing anything different than any of the other crooks in office, but he got caught, and his own party hung him out to dry. The opposition made an example of him and to boost confidence from the voting public, they fined him heavily and threw him in jail. I think that he was still supposed to be inside for another year or so."

Dean shook his head in resignation. "Dude was probably tired of getting reamed in the shower. Pretty convincing argument for Lucifer to get him to let him in. '_I'll fix all your problems and make them all pay for what they did'_. Sounds pretty freaking familiar."

"He's a born debater," Sam drained his bottle and pulled out another one, careful not to make eye contact with anyone. "He'll find a chink in the armor no matter how small it is and use it against you. The stuff he was saying to me… it… it hit home."

"But you still didn't say yes to the douche, right Sammy? You're still walking around free and Lucy is stuck with Dick the Jailbird."

"Yeah, I told him no. I tried to make him angry enough to kill me, but it didn't work. He said he'd never hurt me." Dean felt his blood pressure rise a few dozen notches at that bald statement but managed to keep the outburst inside where it wouldn't do any harm other than feed the ulcer that took up residence in his gut.

"If Lucifer, or any of us for that matter, were to kill an open vessel, it would be death to us," Cas explained. "Vessels are protected from attack by our kind. Only those with free will can kill a vessel."

"Nyan threatened to kill me a couple times," Dean mused sadly, taking a drink and offering it up to the old angel's memory. "Hell, even Uriel threatened to do it every time he saw me."

"It would have been Nyan's demise. He liked you though – in his own way. He thought you were brave and he thought you had spirit. Uriel on the other hand would have been able to kill you because you had not yet accepted your position at that time and you were technically not a vessel. Zachariah was pulling his strings and you were ordered untouchable for the time being – it would have roused Michael's suspicions too early even though I am certain that Zachariah would have preferred you to be out of the picture."

At least it was nice to know he was off limits for being ganked by an angel now, that just left death by fugly and there were plenty of those after him. Dean took a deep breath, glancing over to Anna who was standing silently on her own and had her head bowed. "Anna?" he called gently. "Anna, what are you doing?"

"I am praying for Nyan," she replied softly, not looking up. "He, Zachariah and Torrin were the highest ranking angels beneath the archangels, and he alone was the only one who was true to God's word." If it were possible for an angel to cry, Dean expected there to be a tear coursing down her fair cheek. But her eyes were dry when she opened them and turned to face the humans.

"Bobby Singer?" she asked. The mechanic stood a little straighter at being addressed directly by the solemn red-head. "Will you be with the Winchesters through the coming days of battle and strife?"

"I will," he answered automatically. "I ain't gonna abandon them when they need help as bad as they do." He sent a quick glare at Cas and the disheveled angel had the sense to look at his feet instead of meeting the scathing look.

"Then you will need to be protected as they are," Aurelia stepped towards him with her hand out and Bobby stepped back as the fierce looking blonde came near him.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. What are you doing?"

"I am going to mark your soul as the Winchesters have been marked. It will protect you from being tracked and possessed by angels and demons."

"It will also enable you to call for help wherever you are," Anna offered. "You only have to ask for help and one of us will find you… It's the only way we'll ever find you."

"If you plan on traveling with them and helping them with this matter," Aurelia stated mater of factly, "then this is the only way to secure your safety and theirs. You will be a liability to them if you don't and I can't allow a liability to cause them harm." Her face was blank, but the meanings behind the words were heavy in the air. Either get the marking, or face the warrior – a pretty easy decision when you looked at it that way.

Bobby dropped his hands and stood tall but resigned as Aurelia touched two fingers to the center of his chest. "There. Now you are protected as best as we can offer."

"Welcome to the club, man." Dean fished out a beer from the cooler and handed it over. "It's a pretty crappy club."

"It could stand to be a bit prettier," Bobby smiled beneath his short beard.

"What? We ain't pretty enough?"

"Adam's apples and stubble do not constitute pretty where I come from."

"Yeah, you gotta add a short skirt to the mix."

Somehow, Bobby managed to snort out a bark of laughter. "Even that wouldn't boost the odds."

Cas interrupted the banter with a somber, "We need to leave to find out what is happening in heaven and try and find out where Lucifer went. It is more important than ever that we get Raphael to train Sam and Nyan was not able to secure an audience with the archangel."

"I will seek Raphael," Aurelia offered.

"Nyan was above your station, and he was not able to meet with him to discuss matters. How will you gain audience?"

"I will go to him as Michael's top Lieutenant. Raphael will meet with me if I press on him the importance of the matter."

"May I remind you both that we do not yet know whose side Raphael is on." Anna frowned at the other two slightly. "We must be cautious that Raphael has not switched allegiances."

"What is it, exactly, that you wingnuts want Raphael to teach Sam?" Bobby growled, switching into his protective mama-grizzly mode because it was obvious they weren't seeking out the archangel to teach Sam how to crochet a doily.

Sam took charge and answered their old friend instead of letting the angels do it. "They want Raphael to teach me how to use my powers properly – without using demon blood as a shortcut – so that I can go up against the devil and kill him."

Bobby stared blankly back for a moment before choking out an, "I beg your pardon?"

"The archangels can't kill each other – it's why Lucifer was locked up in the first place. The rest of the angels aren't powerful enough to take him out and Nyan believed that my crossed bloodlines might be the key to destroying the sonofabitch."

"_**Might**_ be the key?" Bobby deadpanned. "That's an awfully big maybe, Kid."

"There aren't a lot of choices."

"So why can't Michael teach you to use your mojo? Guaranteed he's not on Lucifer's side."

Cas answered that one. "Michael would sooner lock Sam up to keep him away from Lucifer than give him any advantage that would usurp his authority. Sam is poised to be the most dangerous protector your kind could hope for and Michael would be against that."

"And Michael can only shove Lucifer back in the hole," Anna chimed in. "If Michael and Lucifer do battle, one will only be able to imprison the other and the world would plunge into another, immediate ice age. Ninety percent of your population will die out-right, and only perhaps two or three percent will survive the cold long enough to adapt and begin repopulating."

"So their royal rumble is a giant re-set button on the earth?" Bobby asked. "They fight and we're automatically shoved back in time ten thousand years?"

"That is the gist of it, yes."

"And my boy is the one who can stop it?"

"We believe so, yes."

"Goddamn boys," the mechanic growled, wiping his forehead with the beer bottle and the sheen of sweat that sprouted out of nowhere. "You sure do like to be hip-deep in it, dontcha?"

"We don't have many alternatives. Maybe you should sit this out, Bobby," Dean replied. "You could start rounding hunters up and telling them what's going on and to start preparing for what's barreling at us. You don't have to have the target painted on your back like Sam and I do."

"You think I can just let you two go off and do this while I sit on the sidelines? Look what happens to you every time I'm not around to pull yer asses outta the fryer! You get killed, you sell your souls, you get possessed and used and hoodwinked by demons, you agree to be vessels and put yerselves right in the middle of harms way and yer telling me that I don't have to fight at yer sides! I'm just to let the only family I got left go off and take on the devil while I make phone calls! You arrogant little piss-ants! If it were possible to beat sense into someone, you know damn well you two would be the first asses my boots would find!"

Dean was a little taken aback by the tirade Bobby spouted off. He glanced around the small group and saw that he wasn't the only one. While Cas and Anna looked as if they didn't know if they were supposed to speak or not, Aurelia was regarding the scrap dealer as if she were seeing him in a whole new light. He didn't know if it were possible for the blonde to smile, but right now might be the closest she's ever come to it.

"I like you. You make a fine addition to our crusade," the warrior spoke, "and I welcome you fully."

The shock of being spoken to like that from someone as fierce looking as Aurelia derailed the elder hunter a bit. "Umm… Thanks."

"I mean it. You all chose to stay and fight when you could have ran for safety. That has merit."

Cas sighed in frustration and said, "We need to return to heaven and find out what is happening. Please, stay here until one of us returns with news. If you leave, we will not be able to find you unless you call for help."

"You know, Cas," Dean felt like giggling at the coming suggestion, and wasn't **that** a sign he was taking the wrong turn down the yellow-brick road, "…you could just get a cell phone."

The angel tipped his head to the side and gazed at him with those eerie blue eyes. "Please just stay here."

With that, the angels winked out and the three hunters were left next to a forgotten lake with a cooler of beer and nothing to do but to sit and wait.

Well… he knew what to do with that beer…

* * *

Two days of research and Jenna felt like she knew what was after her. How they ended up on this side of the Atlantic and why they were after her she had no idea, but they were the closest things she could find in the lore books she had poured through. The Vaeyen – Germanic guardians in vulturine form. Part of the lore was that they turned to statues, and perhaps that was why they slept during the day and hunted at night. It made sense that they would be vulnerable while in statue form and hid to protect themselves. There was nothing in the lore about them being afraid of water, and that worried her. Still, everything else seemed to fit with a little imagination so she was going with Vaeyen.

After she decided what it was that killed Marcus and Bear, she started googling satellite images of the area around her. She needed an abandoned building of some sort and it had to be near a lake or big enough body of water that she could swim in. If her plan failed, she could try to make it to the water, and with the help of some scuba tanks, stay underwater until day break. If the vulture bitches turned to stone during the day, she could smash them to smithereens and dump the shards into the water where they would never harm anyone ever again. If they didn't turn to stone and were waiting for her when she surfaced… well then, she was really up the creek.

She found a place that suited her needs – a run down and foreclosed box factory with a small lake next to it on the outskirts of Jonesboro, Arkansas. And after an hour of scouting out the location, planning traps and envisioning layouts, she decided the place would do perfectly. Most of the machinery had been taken out, but there were several large wooden crates scattered around and an old conveyor belt system that was bolted to the floor and looked like it had been second hand about fifty years earlier. Most of the ground floor was wide open, with a metal grating catwalk leading to where various machines used to be that needed access, the walkway also joined up with a stairway heading up to a mezzanine area above where offices and an old lunchroom used to be. Those were the only windows in the place and they were already boarded over and served her purposes nicely. She ran it all out in her head, liking the idea more and more.

She went out to the truck and started bringing in supplies that she had picked up along the way. Lengths of chain, road salt, the crossbow and silver tipped arrows. She dragged the scuba tanks over to the edge of the water and left them there next to a tree with a weight belt and mask. If she had to run for it full tilt, there wasn't going to be time to suit up properly and she would have to snag the gear on the run and hustle her ass out into the cold water. She wasn't looking forward to the swim and kept her fingers crossed that she would be able to trap the monsters under the nets she was going to rig up. She didn't know anything that could survive decapitation. The bullets hadn't done them any real harm, but her knife had made an impact. She was planning on her machete to make a lasting impression on the bitches that killed her family.

She pulled her M&P from the back of her jeans and shot out the three parking lot lights mounted on the power poles. This place was far out enough that she didn't think anyone would hear the shots, or if they did, most would assume someone was doing target practice with some cans or squirrels or something. She didn't know how well the beasts would be able to see in the dark, but she wasn't going to give them any advantages if she could help it.

There were four doors to the outside, so she chained and salted three of them, leaving the one with the most direct line of view from the catwalk open. Whatever was coming for her would have to come in that door or make an awful racket opening one of the other ones. She didn't know if the salt would deter the beasts at all, but as a hunter, she couldn't ignore the fact that it might help. She pulled the pins out of the hinges on one of the metal doors to the mezzanine offices and dragged it to the catwalk landing where she would be lying in wait over the unlocked door. It wasn't much of a shelter, but it would do. It was more to hide behind before launching her attack than anything.

She set up one net to a trip wire a few feet inside the door. She was going to put up three more so she'd have four in total. There were two of those creatures, and if a net missed one, that was one more nail in her coffin.

Halfway through the afternoon, she pulled the truck up and around the far side of the building and hid it as best as she could in the bushes. Once it was dark, she didn't think it would be too visible and she was more worried about some cop or civilian seeing her truck than she was about the vultures seeing it. She _wanted_ them to know she was here. She sat there in the driver's seat a moment, her fingers clasped around her parents wedding rings on the silver chain around her neck along with Marcus's marine tags. The blood was still on the metal-bead chain and she was not about to clean it off either. It was a solemn reminder of what she had to face.

It was no easy feat to take off the necklace that Clair had given her. It was her last safety net, the only thing that was hiding her from the creatures that were after her and here she was, about to take it off and invite the monsters to come play. There was no convincing herself that she wasn't scared. To not be scared was a sign of lunacy and she was far from crazy. With a deep, steadying breath, she pulled the gaudy crystal bead necklace over her head and tucked it into the dash.

She took one more deep breath and got out of the cab. She had more work to do and she was running out of time. She didn't know if taking off the necklace would even help, if the monsters could even find her now that the tracer on Bear's dog tag was floating down the Red River, but her gut told her that they would be able to track her down now. She didn't know how long it would take for them to zero in on her; maybe tonight, maybe a few days from now, but she knew they would come looking for her. She was prepared to stay here the rest of the week, and if they didn't show up, then she'd have to figure out a new plan. She looked at the run down building as she walked across the sunlit grass, thinking that there were better places to die…

* * *

It was almost six before Cas came back. Dean had been lying down on the hood of the car watching the clouds roll across the blue sky and trying to catch a few winks when the angel poofed in next to him. He almost rolled off the side of the car from the surprise.

"Damn it, Cas! Stop doing that!"

Bobby lurched out of the front seat while Sam bolted upright from where he'd been sleeping on the grass. "What's happening?" Sam demanded. "What's going on?"

"Lucifer's last vessel has resurfaced."

"Last vessel?"

"There were two vessels able to contain him other than you. Lucifer has one, and the second has just been spotted."

"So what are you going to do? Nab the guy and lock him away where Lucifer won't get him?" Dean didn't like the way the angel swung his head slowly from side to side.

"There is no guarantee that locking the vessel away would work. There are those in Heaven that are serving the devil while pretending to serve God. Those traitors might find the vessel and set it free."

"So what are you saying?" Sam asked.

"You need to destroy the vessel so that Lucifer will not have a fall back plan."

"You want us to just gank some poor bastard?" Dean felt his blood pressure rise again and he wondered if the broken knuckles would still feel worth it after he slugged the angel.

"The vessel Lucifer has now has limits. He will burn through it eventually and he'll want the back up to continue on with his plans. Since he can't have Sam, he'll need the substitute before long. The vessel must be destroyed."

"We can't just kill some dude just because he's a vessel!" Didn't Cas freaking get it? They were not the monsters here.

"You promised to serve Heaven, and this is what we are calling on you to do. The lives of six billion people are depending on it."

"Cas…"

"We'll do it," Sam said, nudging his brother aside to speak to the angel.

"Sam! No!"

"We have to, Dean. I don't like it, but we have to. Lucifer is going to fry the planet with this guy and we can't let him."

Dean was about to tell Sam exactly what was on his mind, but a slight twitch in his brother's gaze warned him off. They had spent a lifetime learning the other's cues, and this was a '_back off_' that was undecipherable to outsiders. He couldn't just back down though because that would alert Cas. Instead, he said, "I don't like this. It's wrong."

Bobby chimed in, having missed the twitch or not knowing what it was. "Sam, we can't just kill someone like this. It ain't right." Then again, Bobby was one helluva actor himself, and maybe he was putting on a show for the angel in the peanut gallery too.

Sam crossed his arms across his broad chest and stared defiant at the both of them. "Well, you guys don't have to. I'll do it."

"Sam!" they both barked.

"Look! It's either we kill this guy quick and painless, or Lucifer reams him to hell and back. Personally, I'd rather someone killed me."

"I am happy we understand each other, Sam," Cas nodded at the sasquatch in their midst. "I will take you there." The angel reached out a hand to touch Sam when his brother batted his fingers away. "No. I've had enough angelic-teleportation for one day. Where is the vessel?"

"Northern Arkansas."

"That's only a few hours drive from here. Give me the address and we'll drive." Cas looked skeptical and Sam leaned in to speak in his ear. "It will give me time to convince them of how important this is. Please, Cas, let me get them on board. I _need_ them to understand."

"Okay." Cas spewed out an address in Jonesboro and looked like he was ready to get in the car with them.

"How's Aurelia making out with Raphael?" Sam asked, not moving towards the car.

Cas seemed perplexed by the shift in conversation. "He has not granted her an audience as of yet."

"Then why don't you go up there with her and convince him?"

"What would I be able to do? I am no one."

"You're someone to us. Make sure the archangel knows that too."

Cas seemed a little awkward at that statement. Correct that… more awkward than usual. But he also seemed pleased by it and nodded at Sam. "I will go. You will deal with the vessel?"

"We're leaving right now. We'll contact you later. Promise." Cas nodded again and vanished into thin air.

Dean let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "Whew! Okay, Sammy, what's your plan?"

"Well we sure as hell aren't going to kill this guy just because he's a vessel!" Sam sounded like he was bordering on a violent outburst at the idea of committing more murder, and he had to remind himself of how much killing he'd done while under Lilith's control. His words floated in his mind, echoes of an argument they had just yesterday, when it seemed like it was a lifetime ago. '_They didn't see the monster that was in control – they saw __**me**_.' There was no way Sam was going to be manipulated into killing people. No-sir-ee-bob.

"So what do we do?" Bobby grunted, looking relieved that Sam hadn't actually signed up for the grand executioner position offered to him by the God-squad.

"We find this guy, tell him what's going on, and we hide the bastard. We'll lock him up in the fucking panic room and cement the door shut if we have to."

"You think that'll work?"

"What else can we do? We can't just kill him. What if someone came after one of us just because we're vessels?"

"Alright. Come'on. Let's hit the road and get to Jonesboro before Lucifer or his demons find this schmuck. The last thing we need is an angel looking in before we're done talking to this guy." Dean felt good knowing that he wasn't going to be anyone's puppet; that they were taking back some modicum of control over their lives. He might have agreed to fight for Heaven, and by doing so, gift-wrapped his ass for their General, but that didn't mean he was going to do their dirty work for them. And he was glad that Sam still had that unbreakable streak of humanity in him. Somehow, all the bad shit that happened to him over the years only served to fortify that part of him that made him Sam, other than crumbling it to dust like it would have anyone else.

They piled into the Impala, spirits buoyed that they were still playing this game by their own rules.

_(- - I Will Not Go Quietly, by Don Henley - -)_

* * *

They pulled up the dirt driveway towards the old factory five hours later. It was a few hundred yards off the main road and heavily covered by trees. It was pitch black out too with no lights on out here and the moon hidden behind thick clouds. They had turned off the headlights before they pulled into the long driveway because something about this was screaming just plain wrong. Why the hell would this guy be out here in this isolated building? Was he a security guard? Seemed highly unlikely considering there wasn't a single light on and they all had their spidey-sense on overdrive. While he didn't believe that Cas had sent them knowingly into a trap, they couldn't ignore the fact that perhaps some demons or rogue angels had beat them here already and were now lying in wait.

They left the car far back from the building, hoping that her throaty engine hadn't alerted anyone of their presence. They got out, softly closing the doors and going to the trunk while Bobby kept watch on the perimeter. Sam handed out shotguns and holy water, tucking his nine into the waistband on his jeans for added measure. Bobby has lost his Sig Sauer back in Lexington, and Dean knew the older hunter was feeling pretty naked without it. Dean handed him a spare Glock and Bobby hefted it in his hand a few times, cursing, "Pansy little thing." Dean tried not to be offended by it – it was one of his first guns and he loved that thing: even if it were a bit of a light-weight.

He gripped the demon blade tightly in his hands and the three of them started forward towards the dark building. They skirted the outside, testing the doors but they were all barred. Sam nudged his arm and pointed at something that showed up even in the darkness. A white substance that pooled out from under one door. Salt.

"What do you think is going on?" Sam whispered.

"I don't know, but this just jumped up a few notches on the bad idea meter."

"Do we call in the angels?"

"Let's check it out first. We call them, and they're here in half a second."

Bobby looked off towards the trees and back at the younger two men. "Okay, but be careful. For whatever reason that salt is down, it ain't good."

"Come on."

* * *

Jenna had been just inside the unlocked door when she heard the engine growling. She had the door cracked open so that she could listen for a hawk's cry if the Vaeyen were drawing near. She certainly wasn't expecting a car. She slid back inside, peeking out the barest crack and heard a motor shut off. She couldn't see the car from where she was at, and she couldn't hear anything anymore. She squinted in the dark, trying to make out shapes in the blackness, but there were too many clouds in the sky for any moonlight to get through.

It was another minute before she saw three dark shapes drifting around out in the night. They weren't the creatures that were out after her, but the fact that these three held long, slender objects in their hands screamed that they weren't some local-yocals looking for a place to suck back a few beers or smoke a few doobs. These guys were loaded for bear and coming right at her. There were quite a few things she'd learnt over the years, and one was that coincidences weren't likely in this line of work. They weren't the creatures that killed Marcus and Bear, but these three were about to meet the same fate as the ones that killed her family.

She ducked back inside the factory and carefully pulled the door shut. She eased her way up to her perch on the catwalk, careful not to make a sound on the metal grating and she crouched behind her makeshift door/shield. She picked up her shotgun in lieu of the crossbow she'd been planning on using on the Vaeyen.

She crouched in the pitch black behind the metal barrier, shotgun jammed up against her shoulder as she waited for whatever was out there to come in that door. There was a soft crunch of gravel and she willed her heart to stop hammering in her chest for fear that the figures outside would hear it. She took a few deep breaths to steady herself, telling herself that these three would not kill her, that she still had work to do and these three were not going to stop her. She was ready to put up one helluva fight. She had the element of surprise and the higher ground. These three were as good as dead.

"I will not go quietly," she vowed to the darkness, squinting down the length of the twelve gauge and watching the unchained door slowly inch open…

* * *

A/N: And that's where I'm going to leave you for a few weeks. The next installment of the trilogy will pick up right where this one leaves off. Hope to see you all soon!


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